


those golden hues are not from above

by neon_air



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Carol Danvers, BAMF Carol Danvers, Crying, Gen, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Hurt Peter Parker, Infinity Gems, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Soul Stone (Marvel), They all need a hug, This is the longest thing i have ever written, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wordcount: 30.000-50.000, by TWO other works, carol is the strongest avengers fight me, i have no idea how to tag this, i list them in the notes check 'em out, inspired by another work, kinda its not too bad, no beta bc suffering, theres a lot of crying oops, this does not apply to canon AT ALL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-03-13 18:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18946648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neon_air/pseuds/neon_air
Summary: Peter hadn't expected to wake up after being turned to dust. He hadn't expected to be surrounded in a golden world, with a water floor and a gazebo looking structure in the distance. He hadn't expected any of it, but he never even dreamed that he would go back home with the hope of fixing it all.aka how Peter enters the Soul Stone, talks with baby Gamora, and becomes One with the Stone.





	1. a chance

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this fic came to me after i watched infinity war and was in Crisis Mode™ but i never worked on it because i didn't think it would be good enough nor would anyone be interested in it. BUT then i read Fine, I'll Do It Myself by Sciencelings, as well as foolish as they may seem by rosewitchx. BOTH ARE AMAZING AND YOU SHOULD GO READ THEM RIGHT NOW. those works really inspired me to write this and so *gestures to fic* originally it was going to be just one chapter but then my mind started running and i had to add more. so i hope you all enjoy this! 
> 
> link for Fine, I'll Do It Myself: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229394
> 
> link for foolish as they may seem: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896501

Peter wasn’t expecting dying to be that painful.

Before Spider-Man, he thought he’d die of old age, with a spouse and a family by his side. He’d live a long, fulfilling life and die when his body told him it was time. And surely, dying like that, peacefully in his sleep, couldn’t hurt, right?

When he became Spider-Man, he figured he’d die in battle. A shot to the abdomen, a too hard of a hit to the head, a slip of his grip on his web. Death in battle would hurt, he knew that. It would be slow and painful, but he assumed that his mind would go numb to the pain, that it would be too much to handle and simply bring him into the cradle of unconsciousness until he truly faded away.

But standing there on an alien planet, feeling a prick at the back of his neck, the distinct feeling of _something is wrong,_ the panic that crept up his throat, Peter’s imagination had nothing on the real act of dying. Because oh God, did it hurt.

It felt like someone was peeling off his skin but then going deeper, his veins, his bones, the marrow inside. It was excruciating, it was like nothing he had ever felt before. It made him want to vomit, to cry and weep, to scream and throw himself into hysterics. Instead, he clung to Tony.

His mentor didn’t know what was happening. Peter barely heard his attempt at reassurance, a soft _you’re alright,_ even though he wasn’t and they both knew it. But Tony held him back, and that’s all Peter willed himself to focus on. Tony was so much warmer compared to the cold, icy feeling of coming apart.

They ended up on the floor somehow. Tony was above him, terror and unheard pleas in his eyes. Peter so wished to soothe his mentor, to tell him that it would all be okay, to make both of them believe it.

In the end, all he could say was, “I’m sorry,” before he drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Someone was trying to wake Peter up.

There was a soft nudge to his side.

Was it his side? It didn’t feel quite like it.

Peter resisted the urge to turn over, to grumble at whoever it was.

He was tired, so, so, _so_ tired.

He wanted to sleep for the rest of time.

He felt so heavy like he could fall right through the…

Was there a floor?

Peter didn’t think but he could feel and, no. There wasn’t a floor.

Was he floating?

Falling?

Dreaming?

What was this all?

Was he even sleeping?

It felt like it.

Sort of.

He felt weightless like he was made of nothing.

But he had to be made of _something_ , right?

He had to be.

So what was he made of?

Atoms, molecules, matter, he was made of something.

It didn’t feel like it though.

The nudging returned.

He wanted to tell whoever it was to go away but something stopped him.

Did he have a mouth?

A throat?

A voice?

Where was he?

Peter didn’t think he was sleeping anymore.

If he wasn’t sleeping, then what was happening?

Was he dead?

In a coma?

_Where was he?_

There was another nudge.

This time he tried to reach out.

His arms felt odd.

It was like his body was made of water.

Heavy. Like something could pass right through it.

But water moved and so his arm did too.

His hand brushed something.

It was like cloth.

It was too hard to be cloth though, Peter could tell.

The leather seemed to reach back.

It touches the water of his arm and then _pulled._

Suddenly the water became solid, like ice, but he didn’t feel cold.

He didn’t feel warm either.

Instead, he actually _felt._

His arms weren’t water or ice, but flesh and blood and bones.

His body returned and it wasn’t nearly as painful as it had been disappearing.

He had a mouth, a face, a head, hair again.

He couldn’t see even when he had eyes again.

But then he could because his eyes had always been open, it was just dark around him.

His vision filled with light and it was all he could see, just light, light, light, light--

 

* * *

 

And then everything was golden.

Peter blinked because he could now. He looked down at his body, feeling his chest and stomach, his face and hair. He was whole again. He sighed out of relief, out of dread.

He looked around himself. He was standing in something like a lake. Or rather, _on_ something like one. There was water below his feet but it was not disrupted when he moved. The environment was colored golden and red with orange shadows. It would’ve been pretty, perhaps even peaceful, if Peter had begun to remember everything.

The space ship. Titan. Fighting. Dying.

Panic gripped his chest and he found it nearly impossible to breathe. His knees gave out. He resisted the urge to curl up into a ball and sob. He let himself cry though. He braced himself on his elbows, kneeling on the ground, and cried. He was dead. He had left behind Tony, May, Ned, hell, even MJ. He had _left_ them. And this was the afterlife? It was cold and barren; there was _nothing._

Peter heaved a sob, finally succumbing to the want to curl in on himself. He brought his hands to his head and let his body weigh on his thighs. He stayed there and cried for who knows how long. He was alone, it’s not like it mattered--

There were footsteps.

Peter’s head darted up and he quickly pushed himself up. He still had his suit on, his web-slingers intact and hopefully functional. If he had to fight, he could do it. He just wished his head would stop spinning for one moment so he could focus.

His vision blurred but Peter could make out the outline of some kind of gazebo. Open, no real walls, just a roof held up by Greek looking pillars. That… hadn’t been there a moment ago. Peter didn’t think he could be  _that_ unobservant. But in the center, maybe the entrance, of the gazebo stood someone. They were small like a child but that’s all Peter could tell.

Peter did his best to steady his breathing. “He-Hello?” he called out. “Who are you?”

Silence, then, “Come here.”

Peter started at the young voice. Whoever it was couldn’t be older than ten. Regardless, Peter saw no other choice than to begin towards the gazebo. “Where am I?” he asked as he moved.

The child did not respond.

Peter took in many measured breaths, keeping his focus on the structure in front of him. “Am I dead?” he continued. He knew the answer but part of him needed to hear it from someone other than his own head.

Still no answer.

Peter shivered, pushing down the desperation in his throat. “Please,” he choked out as he reached the steps of the gazebo. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The child, a girl, turned to face him. Her skin was bright green and her hair was purple, wound in two buns that fell into braids. She had markings on her face, intricate silver lines on her cheeks. She was small but Peter felt wary of everything. He wasn’t going to underestimate her.

Peter walked the steps and stopped finally in front of the girl. “Who are you?” he asked, much more gentle this time.

“That depends,” the young girl said, holding unnerving eye contact.

“On what?” Peter pushed.

“My body is not my mind,” she explained calmly. “My body is what the wielder of the Stone wishes to see. My mind _is_ the Stone.” Something in her gaze felt ancient. Peter believed her even if he didn’t understand.

“The stone?”

“The Soul Stone. That is who I am. This body is simply an image, an illusion for the sake of the wielder. I could appear to be anyone.”

The Soul Stone. Is that what caused all of this? Is that why he was there? Peter needed more information.

“So,” he started, drawing out the word, “what do I call you? Just, Soul Stone?”

The child seemed to smile for a quick second, Peter might’ve imagined it. “This illusion, her name is Gamora. You may call me as such.”

The name sounded familiar, distant but recent. Peter didn’t give it much thought. “Alright, okay, nice to meet you, Gamora,” he said. “Now, uh, I’m Peter. Where are we?”

“In the Soul Stone.”

Peter blinked rapidly, his mind running, processing, piecing it all together. “So, this is what? A different dimension? A pocket universe?”

“A pocket universe, that’s an astute description.” Gamora nodded. She sounded much older than she looked.

“Is there anyone else here? I wasn’t the only one wh-who disappeared, right? Right?” He couldn’t be alone, he couldn’t be.

“No--” Peter would’ve sighed if not for her next words, “--half of every living population in the entire galaxy has disappeared along with you.”

Peter swore his heart stopped. “Ha-Half?” he stuttered. “Of every…” He stopped talking, forced himself to hold his breath. Panic surged in his chest. Half of everything. Trillions, _more than that,_ were gone. Disappeared. Dead. He felt absolutely sick to his stomach.

“Thanos--” Peter flinched, “--vowed to wipe out half of every living being, of all life. And he succeeded. It’s why you are here.”

Peter opened his mouth but paused. He looked around himself. More people, living beings, than Peter could even comprehend were there somewhere. Trillions upon trillions of creatures, humans, aliens, animals, were there. People Peter knew and people he didn’t. They must’ve been in the darkness Peter had been in. But right then, it was just Peter and Gamora. Just two out of trillions.

“Then why am I _here_?” Peter asked. “I wasn’t here… before. I was in-in some sort of darkness. It was like I was asleep. Did you pull me out?”

Now, looking at Gamora, it struck that for all she said her mind was, what the Soul Stone was, she really did just look like a child at that moment. “Yes,” she said, scuffing her foot back and forth. “I pulled you out.”

“Why?” It didn’t make any sense.

Gamora looked away, suddenly now sheepish. It was a childish gesture. Peter was an only child, was the youngest in his friend group, and had never dealt with a young child one on one. Still, there was a feeling in his gut that he trusted. Peter crouched down, leveled himself to her. “I’m not upset,” he found himself saying, voice soft and gentle, “not at you. I don’t think you really had any say in what happened with Th… the wielder.”

Gamora met his eyes again. She looked so small. “I didn’t,” she told him. “But it is in my nature as the Soul Stone.”

Suddenly her eyes began to glow, a deeper orange than the environment around them. Peter jolted but didn’t move. There was no prick at his neck; Gamora wasn’t a threat at that moment. She raised her hand, emitting a similar glow to her eyes, and waved it to the right. Peter looked behind him to see a planet. Blues and magentas covered it with an eclipsed sun behind it. Cloud-like figures floated above the world. “Vormir,” Gamora began, “is where I resided.”

Peter stared at the view of the planet, Vormir, zoomed in. He moved to sit on his knees, thighs touching calves. As images of barren terrain appeared, Peter said, “Is this your home?” He looked back at her.

The area where her eyebrows should’ve been scrunched up. She looked confused. “I do not have a home,” she said simply.

Peter’s heart hurt for her. “Oh,” he murmured and turned back to Vormir.

Gamora continued, “Vormir is in the center of all celestial existence. It is deserted. There is no life. The only nature there is lakes and mountains. In the center of it all is where I could be claimed.”

The images shifted. Peter watched as they morphed and swirled before settling to an image of an insanely tall mountain. At the very top, there were two large stone pillars flanking a circular area. Below the cliff of the mountain was a similar circle, indented with a series of markings, symbols perhaps.

“Claimed?” Peter repeated.

The images moved again, this time stopping at the opening of the two pillars. A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness. In Peter’s startlement, he distantly thought it looked like a wraith. “A guardian stands before the structure,” Gamora explained. “To anyone who comes in hopes of claiming me, he is the one to tell them the cost of the Soul Stone.”

Suddenly the orange glow turned blood red and the images changed. The location stayed the same but two people appeared. A tall one and another much shorter. When Peter looked closer, shock coursed through his body. It was Thanos, with only three stones in his gauntlet, and an older, adult Gamora.

She was much taller than she was now. Her hair had grown out and more markings painted her face. She looked strong in a general sense. But as Peter watched the scene unfold, watched as she and Thanos talked, he noticed the panic and fear that set into her eyes. He watched, frozen, as Thanos grabbed her wrist and dragged her closer to the edge of the cliff. She fought but ultimately Thanos was stronger. Peter let out a wet gasp, choking on it, as he watched Gamora be thrown over the edge and down the mountain. He was glad there was no sound, that he couldn’t hear her screaming.

The Gamora beside him barreled on but Peter didn’t miss the gentler tone she used. “The price for the Soul Stone is a soul. One must sacrifice an equal for the stone. To gain, you must give. My nature as the Soul Stone is to take. I am a soul. I desire a soul in exchange for mine. That is how it has always been.”

The glow turned back to orange as Thanos and the wraith figure disappeared. Peter felt himself shaking. He brought a hand to his mouth and closed his eyes. He didn’t quite pray but he sent out whatever comfort he could to the present, real Gamora, wherever she was.

Peter gulped and took a deep breath through his nose. He blinked to keep his tears back. “Okay,” he finally managed, “okay, I get that. I don’t blame you for what happened. I just…”

He looked back to Gamora, stared directly into her eyes. “Why am I here, Gamora? Why did you pull me out?” he begged.

Gamora breathed in, holding eye contact. “I used to be alive,” she said. “Not just my illusion but… before. Before I was the Stone.”

The silence hung and Peter let it sit there. He could wait for her to continue.

“I don’t remember it,” she admitted quietly and there was something in her voice that made Peter’s chest feel tight. “I know I was, but I don’t remember it. Sometimes… who I was interferes with what I am.”

Gamora sighed deeply. Peter’s chest doesn’t loosen. “It is in my nature as the Stone to collect souls. It is what I am.” She paused, made a hiccuping sound and continued, “But it is also in my nature as who I was to question what has happened.”

She looked away, first to the floor then out to the golden world around them. “Nothing like this has ever happened before,” she whispered. “As the Stone, it brings me joy.” Peter shivered. “My purpose is being fulfilled. I am collecting.”

She stopped. Then she sat down. Right next to Peter. Legs lied out to her side. It was unexpected yet such a simple gesture. Peter wondered how tired she must be. Still gazing out, she said, “But who I was speaks to me. It’s something deep, instinctual, you might call it. It’s telling me this is wrong.”

She made the hiccuping sound again. Peter stared as her eyes turned glossy, shining with tears he knew she would refuse to let fall. “It is _screaming,_ Peter,” she choked out. Peter wasn’t even surprised she knew his name, too concerned with the child in front of him. “It is so loud sometimes, it hurts. And I don’t know what to do.”

Peter didn’t know how long they sat there. The silence stretched on. Peter felt the itch of wanting to move burrow into his skin but he didn’t have the motivation to quell it. It didn’t matter right then. Gamora had pulled him out for a reason. He needed to know why. He could wait. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

“I was looking for someone,” Gamora’s voice almost startles Peter in its abruptness, “anyone, when I pulled you out. I needed someone…”

Peter studied her for a moment. There weren’t many tells or traits that Peter could pick up but he didn’t need them. He knew Gamora was holding something back. “Needed someone to talk to?” Peter offered.

“In a sense.” She nodded. “I needed someone. Someone willing--willing to try.”

“Try what?”

Gamora’s eyes flicked over his face. She was studying him this time. Her eyes began to glow again. With a swipe of her hand, between them stood a golden crystal. The Soul Stone, Peter realized, his heartbeat picking up. Peter was surprised to feel the heat coming off the illusion.

“The Soul Stone requires a sacrifice of something you love,” she told him but then hesitated. She reached out to the Stone. Peter expected her hand to just pass through but instead, she grabbed it and held it in the palm of her hand. “But in the end, I have a choice to give myself for whoever was sacrificed. I’ve always been content to give myself for a soul but now…”

Suddenly, a small smile came across her face. Peter felt himself smiling back. “I’m glad I pulled you, Peter,” she said, “because you’re willing to try.”

Peter found that she was right. He didn’t know her plan, didn’t even know if she _had_ one _,_ but whatever it was she was talking about, he would do it. Peter just hoped it wouldn’t get anyone killed or hurt.

Gamora held out her hand to him, Stone in hand. “Take it,” she said, continuing despite Peter’s obvious shock. “Take it and go back. You could fix this, Peter, all of it. Take it and use the other stones to fix this.”

Peter stared at the Stone in her hand. He could feel the power radiating off of it. He couldn’t fathom what it could do to him, to others, to the world if he took it. But then his eyes lifted to Gamora. This could very well be a trick, could be some mind game. Peter could be sent back to the darkness and left there for the rest of his life, or longer. It could all be some bluff. It could all be a lie. But if it wasn’t? And Peter didn’t take it? Then he would be sacrificing trillions of people for his own safety. And Peter couldn’t do that.

Gamora said that the Stone required a sacrifice. Maybe, this time around, he was the sacrifice. His soul for everyone else’s. Bring back everyone and fall into the darkness again. He might die for everyone else.

And as Peter reached out and grabbed the Soul Stone, with Gamora beaming at him and finally letting the tears fall, he knew he was at peace with that.

 

* * *

 

Now, Peter thought that dying was painful. And it had been, don’t get him wrong. It’s just that holding the Stone was worse.

Or maybe it just hurt in a different way. Because while dying had been cold, holding the Stone was pure _heat._ It poured into his veins and burned through his blood. It seared into his skin, bubbled under the surface. It was boiling red hot and he couldn’t escape it. It made him want to throw up, it made him wish he was dead. He almost yearned for the darkness because there couldn’t have been anything worse than this and the sweet release of nothingness sounded pretty good right about now.

But he couldn’t go back to the darkness, he had to get back to his world. He had to get back to May and Tony and Ned and MJ and whoever was left of the Avengers. He had to get back to them, he had to make things right.

He could fix everything. He could bring back trillions and help them. He could do this.

He felt his body change, go from solid and real to nothing and then back to real. When he closed his eyes against the golden beams (which he realized were coming from _him_ ), the colors changed behind his eyes. It went from gold to black, and then to a somehow familiar light blue. And when he opened his eyes, finding himself somewhere familiar, it made it worth the pain.

 

* * *

Peter didn’t know where he was.

He was lying on his back when he came to. He was still burning hot but it was a reassurance that he still had the Soul Stone. When he blinked his eyes open, he saw a whicker roof above him, the sun peaking through. Below him was a wooden floor. The place looked fairly bare from what he could see. He couldn’t hear any birds chirping, but there was a breeze passing through. It provided some comfort to him.

He took in a deep breath and quickly regretted it. The Stone seemed to flare to life and course its power through him. It breathed with him and it hurt. Peter forced himself to breathe through the pain, to calm himself down before he spiraled. He couldn’t afford that right now. He gritted his teeth, thinking to himself that the pain would be worth it, he just had to bear with it.

When the worst of it passed, he sat up. He was in some sort of hut. It was small and it had no real door, just an opening not too far from him. Outside, it looked like home. But when he focused more on his breathing and what truly surrounded him, he found that the air was thick, but not quite with humidity. It was heavy and somehow Peter knew that’s just how this air was.

He wasn’t on Earth.

That alone made him want to break down. Instead, he just closed his eyes and promised to himself that he would make it back. He would find a way, whatever it took.

Peter stood up, breathing with the Stone. It thrummed through him and Peter found that the more he lived with it instead of trying to control it, the pain lessened. Idly, as he noted the room around him, he noted that he was still in his suit as well. He felt a little more safe with it on, a little more like a hero.

He was about to move forward, to venture out into whatever was out there, when he stopped. There was something calling to him. It didn’t call to him with a voice or a sound, but a pull that felt similar to when Gamora pulled him out. Peter looked away from outside and began walking towards the call. He didn’t know how he knew where to go. He turned the small corner of the hut and stopped.

It was the gauntlet. More importantly, it was the Infinity Stones.

Peter knew them all. The Power Stone, on the index finger. Space Stone, middle finger. Reality Stone, ring finger. Time Stone, thumb. Mind Stone, the center of the gauntlet. And finally, on the pinkie finger, _missing,_ was the Soul Stone.

Peter and the Stone breathed together. They sighed as the Stones called out. Peter blinked and walked forward, the humming of the Stones becoming louder and louder. The Space Stone was the loudest perhaps, emitting something akin to real emotions. Betrayal, Peter would call it. The Space Stone felt betrayed. Something ancient in Peter, in the Soul Stone, hurt for it. It was not human, it did not understand anything beyond the actions that would fulfill their purpose. And yet it knew enough to understand what had stopped their purpose.

Peter stood in front of the gauntlet. The Stone in his hand still burned but now he could feel it in his throat. It didn’t quite hurt, though it wasn’t exactly painless. Instead, it felt like the familiar burn of trying not to cry. It was a knot in his throat. Peter knew it wasn’t his own emotion but the Stone’s. He felt them just as strongly.

 _Take it and use the other stones to fix this._ Gamora’s words ran through his head. Peter breathed for himself, brushed aside the burning sensation that spiked in him, and reached for the gauntlet. He could use the gauntlet to create a portal back home and then with whoever was left, they could fix this. Or maybe he should head back to Titan, get Tony and the blue woman and take them home. Maybe he should just put on the gauntlet himself and just be done with it, just use it to bring everyone back, to hell with himself. Regardless of what he did, he needed the gauntlet and he needed it now. His fingers barely touched the gold and he was immediately overwhelmed by the Stones’ power, the Stones’ cries. God, it was too much, too loud, too heavy, it was too much. It hurt so bad, his throat, his hand, his head.He just wanted to fix this, to be safe, to help, to _go home--_

“Out of all the thing I expected…”

Peter felt the Stone all react. The ones in the gauntlet preened almost to see their wielder return. The Soul Stone recoiled, burned, raged. Peter forced himself to breathe, to let the Stone breathe through him but fought for control. It was trillions of souls against his. He had to be stronger, just for the moment. He’d let them all have their revenge soon enough. Besides, he would be joining them.

He turned, rage and fear boiling under his skin. He kept his face as calm as possible. If he could look the part, then maybe he could act it too. He turned and stared directly in Thanos’ eyes. “I didn’t expect a child,” Thanos finished.

Thanos didn’t look very worried to see Peter so close to the gauntlet. He didn’t seem to notice the fact that the Soul Stone was missing, nor the faint glow coming from Peter’s hand. Peter counted it as a blessing.

“Are you here to kill me?” Thanos asked, putting down a bag full of plants. Peter hadn’t noticed it before.

Peter didn’t know what to say. He had never wanted anyone dead, never had the capacity for that kind of anger. He thought that now face to face with the person who had killed half of everything, he expected to feel that anger. But he didn’t. Not exactly. He knew that Thanos deserved to die for what he had done, he knew that. But something told him that killing him wasn’t Peter’s right. That honor belonged to someone else. Peter felt the Soul Stone hum in agreement.

“No,” Peter told Thanos. He was glad his voice wasn’t shaking nearly as much as his body was.

“Then you’re here for the Stones.” It wasn’t a question.

Peter nodded and barely had time to react to the giant sword thrown at him. He was able to jump to safety. His mask formed over his face. He was grateful for the familiar screens, for the small chirping start-up of Karen’s AI. He didn’t take a moment to speak to her, just grabbed the gauntlet and ran.

There was a prick at his neck the entire time he ran. It started at his neck and spread throughout his whole body, filling it with dread and the need to run faster. He ran from the hut, out the open entrance. He could hear Thanos chasing him, using the sword to cut through whatever was in his path.

He wished he had a free hand to use his webs to pull himself forward, but he had the gauntlet in one hand and the Soul Stone in the other. And it wasn’t like the suit had any pockets. He didn’t give any of that much thought though, too focused on getting to a safe place to use the Space Stone.

He sensed the sword first, heard it next, and felt it last. He was lucky, he had managed to jump away before it could kill him, but not far enough to avoid it entirely. As he jumped, it nicked his leg, slicing his calf. He went down hard, gripping the items in hard tighter, rolling a couple of feet. He begged his body to work him, to get up and start running again. Thanos would kill him if he didn’t. He had to get up, had to get up, get up, get up, _get up--_

He did, in fact, get up, but not on his own accord and not on his feet.

Thanos, towering above him, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. Peter scrambled, unimaginable panic running through his body. He fought the urge to claw at the hand around his throat. He couldn’t afford to drop the gauntlet or the Stone.

He wriggled again, trying to keep the gauntlet away. It was a futile attempt, even Peter knew that. “I admire your determination,” Thanos said. Peter had enough spite left in him to roll his eyes. “But it will not get you far, nor will it save your life.”

He began to squeeze Peter’s neck. Peter let out a pitiful sound, something from the back of his throat. He squirmed, kicking Thanos but getting nowhere. He still didn’t dare use his hands. Thanos continued. “You and the rest should be grateful. I have given the whole universe a second chance, a chance to survive. The supplies will last longer, the resources will replenish. The universe is as it should be, and we should all be at peace. And yet…”

Peter’s airway was cut off. Instinct won over and he dropped the gauntlet and clawed at the hand wrapped around his throat. Thanos chuckled, a deep, foreboding sound. As he grabbed the gauntlet, he said, “And yet, those who resisted have not given up their ways. Those on Earth, those on my home. You all have resisted, and you all have lost. Is it not easier to just rest? What is done is done. _I am inevitable_.”

Peter gasped and wheezed but no air came into his lungs. They screamed at him, demanding air he couldn’t supply. He kicked and clawed and let out the barest of a scream. He couldn’t die, not now. He had to get back home, he had to see and talk to May again. He had to make sure Tony was okay. He had to help Ned build the latest LEGO set. He had to get back and fix everything, he couldn’t die now.

In his panic, in his stumble through his thoughts, he didn’t notice the Soul Stone move from his hand. Not slip, not taken from him, but moved. It moved from his hand, up his arm, and to his chest. As Peter’s vision began to dot with black spots, it was encapsulated by his nano-tech suit and nestle against his chest. And suddenly, Peter’s vision was golden instead of black.

There was a loud crashing sound. When Peter managed to catch his bearings, he realized he was on the ground. Everything was golden. It was the only color he could see. Even shadows were tinted with gold. It was disorientating, to say the least. He didn’t know what had just happened or what the burning feeling on--in?--his chest was. But then he blinked and any question disappeared as his mind cleared.

It felt like there was a breeze within him. Despite the burning from his chest, his entire body held a cool sensation. It was light blue to him, even when everything else felt gold.

He stood up. He felt light like he could rise off the ground and float in the air. In fact, he realized as he looked down, that’s exactly what was happening. His feet weren’t touching the ground, but hovering just a few inches above it. For some reason, he didn’t feel shocked at the sight.

His mind suddenly fell back on track, processing the last five minutes in a rapid session. Thanos, the gauntlet, the Soul Stone. Peter slowly looked down at his chest. Emanating from it was the Soul Stone. Nestled right in the center of the spider emblem on his suit, it sat there and glowed brightly. It was a much more distinctive, sharper golden than everything else around him. It was burning him again too. From the center of his chest and out, it burned. Tingled almost, closer to the tips of his fingers. He tore his gaze from the Stone and out into the fields before him. It was impossible to miss, the deep trench that had been created in the ground. Peter could see the familiar purple at the end of the trench. Thanos didn’t exactly look like he’d be getting up anytime soon.

Peter wobbled in the air with the number of emotions pouring onto his shoulders when he looked at the titan. They were not his own, Peter could tell. It did not come from his soul but those held in the crystal in his chest. As soon as Peter acknowledged the voices, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. The cries of them all made his head ring violently. He covered his ears, desperately trying to find some solace, but how do you block out sound coming from inside? They screamed at him, making no real words, but the emotions behind them were enough to understand. Rage, sorrow, pain, hate, hurt, animosity, hysterics, agony. Pure suffering was drilling into Peter’s head.

Later, Peter would wonder why his most painful experiences just kept getting one up’ed.

Peter let out a yell of his own. If he didn’t find some form of control, he knew he would pass out. And then he would be dead, and the Stones would be with Thanos, and that couldn’t happen. Knowing that he had a few moments before Thanos came to, Peter took the precious seconds to breathe in properly. He clamped down on whatever whimpers wanted to escape and focused. He closed his eyes and reached inward. He found the connection to the Stone in the right corner of his mind. _I promise, he will get what he deserves,_ he told the Stones, the souls inside it. _I swear, he will pay, he will. But I can’t do anything with you all yelling at me. I need to focus. I need some quiet. Please, you will be_ avenged _._

Something in his head loosened. It was like a headache finally receding. He could breathe and think again. The souls had listened. He wasn't in control though. It was something more like a compromise. The Stone was a host for the souls. Now Peter was a host for its power.

He and the Stone breathed.  

Peter stood, straightening his back. He looked out to Thanos. The gauntlet lied a few feet from the titan. Peter moved once, simply pressed his foot into the ground to begin walking, when he rose off the floor again. He didn’t take the time to marvel at it. He worked with what he was given, somehow instinctively knowing how to begin moving. He leaned his body slightly forward. He began moving forward. He gently descended, his feet hitting the floor, when he reached the gauntlet. It felt heavier than the last time he picked it up.

Now, how does he create the portal?

The Soul Stone whispered to him, _Sister,_ just as the Space Stone hummed.

Peter knew he couldn’t just pick up the Space Stone. If the Soul Stone burned, then he could only imagine what the Space Stone would feel like. Instead, he held out his hand. He blinked when his eyes began to sting. It wasn’t necessarily painful but it wasn’t comfortable either. But his attention was directed elsewhere when his hand began to glow. It was the same glow that Gamora’s hand had shined. He distantly wondered if the stinging in his eyes was because they were glowing as hers had.  

He worked on autopilot. He knew that he was taking a backseat at that moment. He was the host to the Soul Stone, not its control or director. They lived together as one for now. They breathed together. Peter and the Soul Stone, the Soul Stone and Peter. They were one.

Peter watched as they held their hand over the Space Stone. There was a moment of silence from the Stone, perhaps taking the time to recognize who it was. And then it wept. It cried out to them, yelled at them. She was angry and hurt. For a brief second, they thought, _I’m sorry, Sister,_ before closing their hand. It wasn’t a fist, that would’ve been too aggressive, just a soft grasp. The Space Stone was lifted from the gauntlet and into the air, hovering in front of their hand in a glow of gold.

They wished to soothe their sister. They wished they didn’t have to use her when she didn’t want to be used. But they had a mission to take care of, a world to fix, people to save. They just hoped that their sister could forgive them when it was all over.

With the gauntlet gripped tightly in their left hand and the Space Stone next to their right, Peter and the Soul Stone opened a portal to Titan. They breathed and walked through.


	2. a gamble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was not expecting everyone to like this so much??? thank you for all the kind comments?? i am blessed?? seriously though the comments mean everything to me thank you all! so ive continued writing and i think this might turn out to be FIVE chapters which was more than i was expecting akjnsdfhbfds so it might take a while for the next update lo siento. 
> 
> also for the Stones, if i'm talking about one of them directly and about their purpose, I use "it's" as in possessive, not the contraction "it is" 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Their feet touched the rough ground of Titan and Peter blinked. They were two separate entities again. Peter and then the Soul Stone, still together, still breathing, but their minds were no longer one. Just two minds in one host.

 _Or trillions of minds,_ Peter thought to himself.

The portal closed behind him. He began to hover above the ground. The stinging in his eyes faded. The weight of the gauntlet was reassuring. The burning was no longer painful, just a comforting feeling in his whole body. Everything still looked golden, the Space Stone was the only thing of a different color, a rich blue. He didn’t mind the golden hues so much on Titan. He didn’t want to look around and remember it all, the fight, losing, dying. There was nothing here he could look back on and hope to see again. Except for one thing.

Tony.

Tony could still be there. And if he was, then it was Peter’s job to get him home. And the blue lady too. Nebula, he suddenly knew. Nebula was her name. As Peter flew to where he last remembered Tony being, he reached into the right corner of his mind and found the feeling of hard cloth, purple and green. Gamora. Gamora knew who Nebula was. She had been the one to give him her name. Peter pulled away from the connection, reminding himself to think about that later.

Peter recognized the deep rivets in the ground from where the moon had come crashing down. He was close. He leaned forward, urging himself to go faster. He had to find Tony and Nebula.

He knew he was there the moment he saw the dust on the ground. He had died here. Torn to pieces and stuck into darkness for who knows how long. He had left Tony here. He forced back whatever bile had risen to his throat. He was okay now. He had the Stones, he was alive, and he was going to fix this. It would be okay. He just had to find Tony.

The man was nowhere in sight though. Neither was Nebula. But what gave him hope was the fact that neither was the ship the others had landed in. The Guardians of the Galaxy, Gamora supplied again. There was something distinctly fond about the way she said it. It struck Peter that her voice was deeper, older in a way it hadn’t been inside the Stone. This was a different Gamora, the present one. _The one Thanos threw off a cliff,_ Peter seethed to himself.

But the ship wasn’t there, and neither was Tony and Nebula. They must’ve gotten the ship up and running. They must be home by now. Peter brightened for the first place since he had left the Stone. Tony and Nebula were okay, they were home on Earth. It was going to be okay.

Peter felt the Soul Stone rejoice with him. The souls all knew what Peter did. There was a chance to fix this all. There was hope. They just had to get to Earth now.

Peter turned around and raised the Space Stone up, eyes burning again. An ancient sadness came over him. Peter knew it was for the Space Stone. It wasn’t his though, nor the souls’ inside the stone. It was the Soul Stone itself. Gamora had said that it used to be alive. He wondered of all the Stones had been alive at one point.

He watched the blue stone glisten and shine. He felt her reach out, similar to the way the Soul Stone did but still different. She was still angry, raging against the confines of the crystal. But there was something else that told Peter she was listening. She wanted to know what he and the Soul Stone were doing.

Peter felt the Soul Stone reach out to her but it was Peter who promised to tell her everything.

She seemed less reluctant to open the next portal after that.

 

* * *

 

Earth.

Peter had never been more happy to see it in his life. Emotions swirled in his chest. His eyes stung for another reason then as he felt tears well up in them. He was on Earth, he was _home._

Peter didn’t hover off the ground this time, instead allowing himself to feel the floor beneath his feet. He was outside the compound, in the open fields around it. For a moment, he sat down in the tall grass and revealed in the feeling of the breeze, the grass tickling his face and sides. He focused in on the birds chirping, the sun beaming down on him. He soaked in as much as he could, finally letting the tears fall. Devastation and ruin had fallen upon the universe and yet Peter had never felt more at peace. He let the selfishness of that crawl up his throat before standing up.

He began walking towards the compound, savoring every step, every familiar feeling. He studied the building. It looked somehow bleak like someone had turned off all the lights with everyone still inside. He reached the doors, breathed for himself, adjusted his grip on the gauntlet, and walked in. 

He expected the voice of FRIDAY to welcome him but there was nothing. It was unbearably quiet. His focused on the sound of his footsteps to keep himself calm. Unnervingly, it reminded him of the darkness.

Suppressing a shiver, Peter walked farther into the compound. As he did, there were voices, slowly becoming more audible the more he moved forward. The voices were loud, angry, arguing. 

“--just give up?!” someone yelled.

 “We don’t know where the gauntlet is,” another said, calmer but authoritative. “We have to have an angle before we start working.”

“The bastard is still alive,” a gruff voice sounded. It sounded like a growl almost. “Those restraints we used will last for a few more days. I say we go back. We don’t know if he was telling the truth or not! Why the hell should we trust him?! He coulda just hidden the damn thing!” 

There was a tense silence then, “I told you before. My father is many things but a liar is not one of them.”

Nebula. Peter knew it was her. A joy that wasn’t his rose into his chest. Peter didn’t have to reach into the corner of his mind to know it was Gamora’s.

“Then he twisted his words!” the gruff voice said. “He didn’t have to have lied.”

“The story of some kid showing up and taking the gauntlet is pretty ridiculous,” a hesitant voice chimed in.

“He was holding something back,” a softer, thoughtful voice muttered. “When he was talking about the kid, he was holding something back.”

Another silence before, “What do you mean?”

Peter stopped. He would know that voice anywhere.

Tony.

He stayed frozen, internally weeping with joy knowing his mentor was safe, as the conversation continued. The softer voice spoke again. “I mean, he wasn’t telling us everything. If the story was made up, you’d be able to tell. People don’t hold back like that, no matter how good of an actor they might be. The story was true and he wasn’t telling us everything. 

The next moment was contemplative. They were thinking it over. “Then who was the kid?” a tired yet determined voice pushed.

“How are we supposed to know? It’s not like Thanos gave any details,” the calm, authoritative voice spoke. “Right now, the most we can do is rest up and start looking for the gauntlet. Everyone, go to bed. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

Peter should be moving, he should be hiding. He doesn’t want to spring his existence on them, on Tony (who saw him _die_ ). He needed to be moving, he needed to fly into the rafters, he needed to disappear, just for a moment and then--

The doors were opening. He was frozen.

Captain America, Steve Rogers, was the first to step out. The man looked more than tired like the feeling ran bone deep. Peter could tell because it took him a few seconds to notice Peter standing in the middle of the hall, glowing, with the gauntlet and Space Stone in hand.

But when he did, so did everyone else. Peter recognized a few of them himself but the Soul Stone supplied the rest of the names. Carol Danvers, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov ( _Natalia,_ someone whispered to him), Rocket, Nebula, Thor of Asgard, Tony Stark.

They all froze at the sight of Peter. Peter froze at the sight of them. For a while, they all stood there, staring at one another. It was Tony who broke the daze.

“...Peter?”

Peter felt everything in his body relax. His mentor sounded distressed like he was about to start crying but Peter knew that it would all be okay. Tony was here, the Avengers were here. It was going to be okay.

He held out the gauntlet and the Space Stone. She thankfully didn’t seem too upset about being passed over. Maybe she could sense that Peter trusted them.

Peter breathed for himself, feeling the Soul Stone hum with anticipation. They were going to fix this. 

“I heard you were looking for these.”

Carol reacted first this time. Studying him intently, she walked forward. “Where’d you come from, kid?” she asked gently.

Peter considered the question, then said, “The Soul Stone, then the planet Thanos was on, then Titan and now, here.”

Carol was right in front of him, stopping again. “So Thanos wasn’t lying then,” she muttered, mostly to herself. 

She took the gauntlet from him. When she reached for the Space Stone, he pulled back, quickly saying, “Wait, you might not want to touch the Stone directly. It’s pretty powerful. You could get hurt.”

She looked from the Stone to him, slowly smiling. “Well, I’m pretty powerful too, kid,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine.”

Despite her confidence, her movements were cautious when she reached for the Space Stone. Peter noticed the tightening in her face as she held it. She gritted her teeth and pushed through it though. Peter was sure he noticed only because he was right in front of her. It didn’t seem to be in pain though. There was something in her expression that was bitter. She placed the Space Stone back into the gauntlet. Peter held in a protest, the Soul Stone flaring in his chest for their sister.

He felt his eyes begin to sting but he forced the Stone to breathe. Carol wasn’t going to hurt the Space Stone, wasn’t going to hurt any of the Stones. It was going to be fine.

However, while he managed to calm the Stone down, whatever glow that had flared up did not go unnoticed by Carol or the others. Peter saw the rest of them tense up out of the corner of his eyes. Carol raised her chin and straightened her back. There was hardened apprehension in her eyes when she stared him down. “One of the Stones is missing,” she said, “you know where it is?”

Peter knew exactly where it was and he had a feeling Carol knew too. He reached up to the front of his suit and tapped his chest. The nanotech peeled away, revealing the area where the shirt he had been wearing was burned through. At the center of his chest was the Soul Stone, glowing and breathing. “I was running from Thanos,” he explained, knowing there’d be demands for one. “I had the gauntlet but he got a hit in and I dropped it. He had me by the throat when the Stone settled. It’s been there since then.”

“How are you not dead?” Nebula spoke up.

Peter looked to her, eyes darting to Tony next to her, who looked torn between yelling or breaking down or both. He looked back to Nebula and said, “It hurt like hell but I managed to… talk to it.”

“Talk?” Steve Rogers repeated.

“It’s sentient,” Peter told him, “It was alive once. And even if it isn’t now, the souls inside it still understand. I don’t control it and it doesn’t control me.”

“So, what? You’ve been walkin’ around with trillions of souls in ya?” Rocket questioned.

“Kind of,” Peter said. “They’re mostly dormant. Some of them are aware enough to understand what’s happening. I can hear the souls and the souls can hear me.” His lips quirked into a brief smile. “In fact, they’re very happy with what’s happening right now.”

They all fell silent. Carol studied him again, scrutinizing everything she could see. “Well,” she said finally, adjusting her grip on the gauntlet and looking back to the others, “we have an angle now.”

“Now what?” Peter asked when no one else spoke.

“Now,” Carol chuckled, though it was void of any real humor, “we rest.”

There was a rise in protest from the others but Carol was quick to shut it down. “We haven’t been able to sleep easy in twenty-three days,” she said, “and we probably won’t for another twenty-three. But we have an advantage right now. We won’t be able to use it if we drop from exhaustion. Everyone sleeps tonight, I don’t care if it’s only for an hour or ten minutes. We’re all sleeping. And then tomorrow…”

She looked down at the gauntlet. The Stones all glowed under their gazes. Part of Peter, of the Soul Stone, wished to soothe their nervous buzzing.

“Tomorrow, we bring everyone home.”

Her tone left no room for argument. The others looked at each other, nodding in an understanding way that Peter didn’t get. Carol turned to him again and said quietly, “We’ve got plenty of rooms, kid. You can stay here tonight.”

They all began to dispatch, going off in separate directions. A ring of hope sounded between all of them. They had a fighting chance and they knew it. The plans would come tomorrow. For now, they all needed some well-deserved rest. 

“Kid.”

Peter, not having moved an inch, stopped. Tony was standing in the same position too. It didn’t look like he had even breathed since Peter last looked at him. Peter noticed his left hand trembling. “Kid,” he repeated, “you were gone.” Peter hated the way his mentor’s voice hitched. “So tell me: how in the _hell_ are you back?”

The others stopped too, turning back. They might not have known Peter but he was sure they were curious as to how he was back. Peter swallowed, looked to Tony, but then looked to Nebula and Rocket. “There was a girl,” he said to them. “Said her name was Gamora.”

Rocket’s ears went back, mouth falling open. Nebula clenched her jaw and briefly looked away. “She pulled me out,” he continued. “And then she gave me the Stone and let me out. 

“How?” Tony demanded voice clipped 

Peter shrugged, shaking his head minutely. For once, the Stone didn’t give him any answers, just supplying the heat Peter thought was now familiar. “I don’t know,” he said. “We talked in the Stone. It created this pocket universe for everyone who disappeared. She gave me the Stone, said that we could fix this. When I was back, I was on the same planet as Thanos. The Soul Stone wasn’t in the gauntlet anymore; I had it.”

Peter heard Tony take in many controlled breaths. “Gamora,” Nebula suddenly said. Peter turned to her. “Is she… is she at peace?”

“The others, too,” Rocket added.

Peter breathed in deeply and reached into the right corner of his mind. Gamora and the Guardians were already there. _Yes,_ Gamora said, _I am at peace, sister._

 _We’re okay, Rocket,_ Peter Quill said. _Groot hasn’t stopped swearing though. You can give him your Disappointed Dad look when we get back._

Peter repeated each message word for word. Nebula closed her eyes and something in her expression eased. Rocket just muttered, “Goddamnit, Groot. Don’t know where the little shit gets it.” There was a fondness in his voice.

The answers proved satisfactory for now. The others continued on without another word. Peter didn’t blame them, he wanted to rest too. But he looked to Tony and knew he wouldn’t be able to for just a little while longer. He could bear it, especially if it meant he could talk to Tony. It had been almost a month now. Peter didn’t want to waste another second. 

When everyone had left and the compound fell silent, when it was just the two of them, Peter began to walk forward. Neither spoke. Peter was the only one moving and he didn’t stop until he was arm's length away. He wanted to give Tony space. He couldn’t imagine what could be going through the man’s head. 

Peter didn’t know what to say. He just took in his mentor, wanting to cement the fact that he was okay in his head. So he ended up saying what first came to mind: “Look, Mr. Stark,” he said, voice all raspy as an onslaught of emotions come over him. They were all his own. He gestured to the detachable arc reactor on Tony’s chest, then to the Stone in his. “We match.”

Tony seemed to force the air from his lungs and then there were arms grabbing Peter, pulling him closer. Tony wound his arms around Peter’s frame, one hand on his back and another cradling the back of his head. Tony held Peter close. Peter could feel him shaking.

Peter returned the hug wholeheartedly. Since the Soul Stone had nestled into his chest, Peter had never felt alone. There was always someone in the corner of his mind. There was always a feeling that wasn’t his passing by or a voice in his head that wasn’t him. But now, hugging Tony? It felt like everything had gone quiet and it truly was just the two of them.

Peter hadn’t realized he closed his eyes until he opened them. The world was multicolored now, no longer pure gold. Peter found that he had missed the familiar tones.

Tony was mumbling into his shoulder. Peter could hear small parts of it, mostly something along the lines of _Christ, Peter, you’ve never allowed to do that again_ and _I’m so sorry._ Peter tightened his hold and felt Tony respond likewise. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” Tony managed to say louder.

Peter shook his head. “It’s not your fault,” he insisted. Tony didn’t respond, just pressed his face into Peter’s shoulder. Peter allowed himself to relax fully into the embrace. It would all be okay.

It was minutes later before Tony pulled back. Even then, he didn’t let go of Peter, keeping his hands resting on Peter’s arms. “C’mon, kid,” he said quietly. “Danvers had a good idea, getting some rest." 

Peter nodded. They walked together up the stairs and into a hallway Peter assumed led to the bedrooms. Peter expected Tony to show him an empty spare room he could use for the night but they continued walking to the end of the hall. Tony opened the door and walked in, revealing a rather large room with two beds, a TV, and other doors leading to a bathroom. It looked like an expensive hotel room. Peter knew that this wasn’t Tony’s usual room, but he couldn’t figure out why Tony had brought them here.

“I haven’t got any extra clothes in your size,” Tony said quietly. The silence was hard to break even when there was noise. “You can borrow some of mine though.”

Peter let out a soft chuckle. “Aw, no Hello Kitty pajama pants this time?” he joked, loving the familiar beginning of banter.

“No,” Tony said, and although his voice was light, there was something strained buried in it. “Next time you get Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas.”

“Better than Hello Kitty,” Peter decided, sitting down on the bed closest to the door.

Tony, who had moved towards the drawers to pull out clothes, stopped and turned back to him. “Nope,” he told Peter. “I’ve already claimed that bed. Scooch.”

“What?” Peter exclaimed, pulling a face. “When?”

“Just now. I declare thee bed mine.”

“You do know that by using ‘thee’ you just called me a bed, right?”

“Of course I knew that. Now move, bed.”

Peter snorted, let out the goofiest little giggle he had ever heard from himself. He caught his breath and looked at Tony. It was the first smile he had seen from his mentor since he arrived.

“That’s so rude, Mr. Stark,” Peter grumbled as he got up and moved to the next bed. He didn’t notice Tony flinch. “Out of all the nicknames, ‘bed’ is just rude.”

“Hush now, bed.” Peter giggled again. Tony’s smile brightened but then fell. “Not to bring the mood down,” Tony rushed out, his voice taking on a new tone. There was something urgent about it. “But I’m telling you, call me Tony. ‘Mr. Stark’ makes me feel old.”

Tony finally moved from the drawers, holding out a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt. Peter took then and said cheekily, “That’s ‘cause you are.”

Tony gaped at him. “Now _that_ was rude,” he said, pointing a finger at Peter. “You know what? No pajamas for you, you sleep in the suit.”

Peter laughed. It had taken him a while to understand one Tony Stark but he had gotten it eventually. Tony wasn’t about to have him sleep in the suit, the very suggestion made Peter laugh. Especially since Tony was still holding out the clothes to Peter.

Peter nodded, grinned and said, “Of course, _Tony._ ” He tilted his head forward, making sure the emphasis didn’t go unnoticed.

He took the clothes and stood up. He moved to the bathrooms without waiting for a response. He closed the door behind him to change.

It was odd, seeing his body for the time in roughly a month he realized. Staring at himself, it occurred to him that he could do well with a shower about now. There was still dried blood on his suit and bruises were only just beginning to fade from around his neck. He still needed to clean the cut on his calf from Thanos’ sword. Peter hadn’t noticed how bad it stung.

He took off the suit, momentarily stretching his arms above his head and behind his back. He studied himself in the mirror. The Soul Stone shined in his chest. There were tendrils of the gold shining through cracks in his skin. His skin wasn’t broken necessarily though. It looked like shattered pavement, pieces of a street broken from weight and use. The worst of it was on his chest. From the center, it stretched up his neck, trailed down his stomach, spread out onto his forearms. It was everywhere, brightening every time Peter breathed. Idly, Peter traced the breaks in his skin, gently brushing them with barely the tip of his fingernail. The Soul Stone hummed at his touch, responding to the attention of its host.

Peter dropped his hand and turned around to turn on the shower.

Twenty minutes later, Peter was clean and in oversized, billowing clothes. The t-shirt reached his mid thighs and the sleeves hit his elbows. Peter doubted that this fit Tony either, realizing it was probably just a nightshirt. The pants weren’t too bad, only a little too long for Peter’s size. He tied the strings to make sure they didn’t fall down. He exited the bathroom, turning off the lights on his way out.

Tony had changed into pajamas too and was fiddling with something on his phone when Peter came out. He immediately looked up at Peter when the boy walked out. “Well, you look a lot cleaner,” Tony said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“I feel it,” Peter told him, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to detangle it.

Tony kept his gaze on Peter, at first in an almost casual way, just watching him, when something passed over his eyes. His expression flickered too. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he said, already moving to stand up. “Are you hurt?”

Peter looked down, seeing the glowing energy of the Stone. “Oh,” he said, turning his gaze to Tony, who was now in front of him. “No, that’s just the Stone.”

Tony seemed almost pained by the mention of it. “The Stone,” he repeated.

Peter hummed, tossed in a nod too as he pulled down the collar of the shirt. It was big enough that it stretched almost all the way down to Peter’s stomach. “I told you we matched,” Peter chuckled. There was nothing funny about it though.

Tony was silent. Peter would’ve been proud at making Tony Stark speechless, had it been in any other situation. Instead, he squirmed under Tony’s gaze. Finally, Tony heaved a great sigh and breathed out, “Jesus Christ, Peter.”

Peter let go of the collar and shrugged, unknowing of what to say. “Does it hurt?” Tony asked, fingers fidgeting at his side. 

Peter rolled his shoulders and muttered, “It burns. It doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s a hell of a contradicting statement, kid,” Tony sighed. 

“It _did._ Hurt, I mean. It hurt really bad. But now it’s just heat. It doesn’t really hurt. Honestly.”

Tony stared at Peter, pursed his lips, obviously debating with himself in his head. “You said it ‘settled,’ right?” Tony questioned, crossing his arms as though to keep them from fidgeting more.

Peter nodded.

“Right, so that was the Stone’s choice?” Another nod, coupled with a shrug. “My question is, will the Stone ‘unsettle’?”

“What do you mean?” Peter said, eyebrows knitting together.

Tony’s voice came out rushed, an undertone of panic seeping through. “The Stone settled and that was it’s choice, you said. So if it was it’s choice to _stick_ \--” Tony gritted his teeth, “itself into your chest, will it choose to unstick? I’m just thinking of long term situations, y’know? We don’t know what this will do to you and I’m not gonna just sit and watch if something does happen, not if it can help or stop it or--”

“Tony,” Peter interjected. He was surprised to hear how calm he sounded. “Breathe for a second. 

Tony seemed to not have even realized how fast he was talking. He gaped for a second, mouth open to continue speaking before closing it and breathing through his nose. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“It’s okay,” Peter assured him. “You’re right, we don’t know what’ll happen.”

Peter sat down with a heavy sigh. “But we could bring back everyone,” he continued. The Stone hummed at the mention of their purpose. Peter didn’t bother to stop the glow from brightening against his skin. His eyes began to sting. The call to their purpose would always gain a reaction from the Stone, and by extension, from Peter.

Tony’s eyes widened, arms falling to his side in shock. Peter blinked and together, he and the Stone breathed. Peter felt the sting in his eyes lessen and the heat beneath his skin begin to rest at a simmer. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take, Tony,” he finished. Peter didn’t think he had ever spoken truer words than that. He felt the Stone itself, not the souls, preen. Their new purpose would be fulfilled. Peter felt the pride from the Stone surge into his body. 

The fear in Tony’s eyes kept the feeling from fully blooming.

 

* * *

 

Falling asleep for the first time with the Stone was… odd.

Before Peter had managed to fall asleep, he had panicked. It was too dark, too suffocating. He felt like his arms had returned to their nothingness state, had become water again like in the Stone. He hadn’t been able to even shut his eyes without beginning to hyperventilate. 

Peter had known that Tony wasn’t going to fall asleep until he did but he didn’t want to bother the man. For as close as they were, Peter still had problems with reaching out. So instead, he turned away from Tony, lied down facing the wall and reached into the right corner of his mind. He found trillions of souls all buzzing, some aware and awake, others sleeping and in the darkness. He went further, brushing the connection of the Stone itself. He felt it hum at his presence. The Stone was too ancient for Peter to understand what it did or why, but when it wandered around his mind and came across his predicament, he trusted it to search and not harm. 

Peter hadn’t noticed how his eyelids had begun to droop. Nor had he noticed the soft golden wisps that had begun to surround him. He had only noticed when the Stone reached further and further and further into his mind until he and the Stone breathed together and became One. They closed their eyes and trusted the two separates that made One to watch over each other. They breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out--

 

If Peter (as One or just _one_ ) had turned around from the wall, he would’ve noticed Tony stare at the golden lights. He would’ve noticed Tony take in a shaky breath before running his hand down his face. He would’ve noticed the frustrated, scared, angry tears reach his mentor’s eyes. He would’ve noticed Tony get up and walk over to Peter’s bedside. He would’ve noticed, would’ve felt Tony brush his hair away from his closed eyes.

But Peter hadn’t noticed, hadn’t been only Peter at the time, hadn’t even been awake.

 

* * *

 

 

When Peter woke up and opened his eyes, the world was golden again. 

He sighed. He didn’t mind the golden hues, just preferred the natural colors of his world. He rolled over in bed, blinking himself to awareness. He rubbed his eyes and dragged his hand down his face. He looked over to see Tony’s bed empty. That didn’t surprise him. Peter knew that now that they had a plan, Tony wouldn’t sleep until they saw it through until they saw it succeed.

Peter got out of bed, went to the bathroom, checked the Stone and then left the room. He took some of the extra fabric of the t-shirt and tied it to make the shirt smaller. Since it was the only clothing he had at the moment, other than his suit and old, dirty (and bloody) clothes, he wanted to look a little more presentable.

He made his way down the hallways and the stairs to the meeting room everyone had been in previously. Peter knew they were down there. He could hear them all, speaking in quieter tones, a somber yet hopeful note appearing in all their voices. He could also sense them. The Stone’s power was an enigma to Peter. He didn’t understand them or control them, and could only use them when he and the Stone were One. But what the Stone did naturally, came to Peter just the same. He could feel the souls around him. He knew that Tony, Carol, Steve, Thor, Rhodes, Natasha, and Nebula were in the meeting room. Rocket and Bruce were still asleep in their rooms. Peter could sense that they had only fallen asleep recently.

Peter tuned into the conversation as he entered the meeting room. The gauntlet was in the center of the table. “We have the stones, we don’t have a plan,” Steve said. No one had noticed Peter’s arrival it seemed. “We don’t know what these Stones will do, nor what we can do with them.”

“What if we just did what Thanos did, just in reverse? Use the Stones to snap everyone back?” Natasha offered, notepad in hand.

“We still don’t know what the Stones do,” Tony repeated, leaning forward in his seat. “We might be able to understand them individually, but together, who knows what could happen if we tried anything?”

“It’s all about intent,” Peter found himself cutting in. He could feel Gamora and someone else, someone older ( _The Collector,_ they whispered) speak to him. They knew the Stones better than Peter did. Everyone in the room turned to him, diverting all their attention. Peter took in a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, continuing. “Thanos wanted to wipe out half the universe,” he said, tapping his chest, the Stone, twice. “That was his intent. He knew much more about the Stones than we do, he’s had years to study them. But in the end, it comes down to intent.”

“So, what?” Carol questioned. “We just have to really mean it?” 

“And be able to will the Stones to do what you ask of them,” Peter added.

“How hard is that?” Natasha asked, scribbling down notes. 

“Very,” Peter said.

“Says the guy with a Stone in his chest,” Rhodey pointed out, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“I don’t control it,” Peter told him. “I don’t even understand it. I can only use its power when we’re One.”

“One?” Tony repeated, concern seeping into his features.

“The Stone was alive once, it has a mind of its own. I’m its host. I still have a mind of my own too. We can… meld, I guess you could say. It’s no longer two minds and a host, it’s one mind and a body.”

“Are you suggesting we meld with the Stones?” Carol asked, eyebrows raising, incredulous.

Peter shook his head. The Soul Stone briefly thrummed through him, showing its agreement. It would be stupid for any one of them to meld with even one of the Stones, let alone all besides his. Peter knew that his current situation with the Stone was dangerous. Tony had raised a valid point before bed. What if the Stone didn’t let go? What if it stayed there? What would happen to the Stone? What would happen to Peter?

“No,” Peter said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Again, says the guy with one in his chest,” Rhodey reiterated, rubbing his forehead. “I’m not trying to pick a fight, I’m just pointing out that if you can do it, why can’t we?" 

Peter opened his mouth to speak, to repeat the dangers of it all when the Soul Stone brushed against his mind. Peter closed his mouth and reached for the connection. The Stone didn’t quite speak to him. What it did was more akin to supplying thoughts, a telepathic brainstorm of sorts. The Stone would show to the others the dangers. It would show them exactly how risky it was.

Peter breathed in and felt the connection become one solid stream of thought. He felt his eyes sting and saw the world around him shine in gold. Somehow it looked more defined than it had a moment ago. He saw, felt the others react. Tony straightened his back, clenched his jaw. Carol stood up from her seat, expression hard but prepared. Natasha and Rhodey instinctively reached for a weapon. Steve went stiff and Thor grabbed his ax. Nebula just looked stunned. It didn’t surprise Peter or the Stone. She knew perhaps the most about the Stone out of all of them there. It made sense that she would marvel in the face of its power. 

“Pete?” Tony said quietly.

“Not quite,” Peter said but it wasn’t really Peter. Not anymore. Peter and Stone were One again. Not just a him and an it, but a they. Two minds into one, a host becoming a body. Together they breathed.

“If this is some sort of trick--” Thor rumbled but Peter and the Stone cut him off.

“It’s not a trick,” they told him. “It’s simply easier to show you this way.”

They held out their hand and out poured golden light. It circled in the air before forming a circular surface. “Every Stone is unique in its own way, aware in its own way,” they began to explain. “The Power Stone--” the Stone appeared above the golden surface, “--allows its wielder unimaginable power. Entire planets can be destroyed with nothing more than a tap of the Stone. It’s purpose _is_ power, giving or gaining it.” The Power Stone disappeared and was replaced with-- “The Mind Stone. It harnesses the power of the mind and will. Among the more aware of all the Stones, it’s intelligence is unparalleled. It can control the mind and enhance it. It’s purpose is to work with the mind, for better or for worse.” Tony briefly closed his eyes before steeling himself and opening them again. 

The Mind Stone vanished. The Reality Stone appeared next. Thor looked away as it did. “The Reality stone bestows the wielder the ability to alter reality itself. Anything is possible with the Stone, the only limitation is your knowledge and imagination. It’s purpose is to move; reality never stops.”

Red turned to green as the Time Stone came next. “The Time Stone controls time itself, whether to go forward or back. From someone walking to the colliding of different dimensions, the Time Stone would be able to alter the outcome of either. It’s purpose is progress, forward or back.” Distantly, somewhere in the connection, Peter thought of Dr. Strange.

Green to blue. Natasha, Steve, Thor, and Tony all shared a glance. Carol stared at it in familiarity. “The Space Stone controls the fabric of space. Capable of creating portals and producing boundless energy. She’s perhaps the most aware of all the Stones. Her purpose is to expand.”

All eyes fell on them as the last Stone, the Soul Stone appeared above the surface. “The Soul Stone,” they said, voice almost somber, quiet, “has the ability to manipulate the souls of the living or dead, and conjure the souls of those dead. It’s… _our_ purpose is to reverse all this.”

Silence hung in the air. The golden surface had disappeared. They continued. “The Stones are powerful on their own. We know what they’re capable of together. To meld with all of the Stones, or even just one,” they smiled and chuckled, as though sharing an inside joke with themselves, “is foolish.”

They took a moment to let it all sink in. They weren’t finished yet. “The solution isn’t to wield them as Thanos did,” they spoke. “The Stones were never meant to be controlled by one person. It would kill us. If all of us want to see tomorrow, then we suggest that each Stone be given to one person, not to meld with but to wield. One Stone for one person. Together, we snap while focusing on the same outcome. Our intent must be the same. It will not work otherwise.”

They could see all their minds race. Each one of them was thinking it over, the plan, the risks, the outcomes.

“It will work.”

Everyone turned to Nebula. Her face is grim, mouth set in a straight line, but when she looked back, there was something small both Peter and the Stone recognized as hope. “It will work,” she repeated, nodding once.

“How will we wield each Stone?” Natasha asked. Peter and the Stone noticed the renewed energy in her. “You wield it because you’re a host, but you said it’s too dangerous.”

“Creating something like that,” they pointed to the gauntlet on the table, “for each of you shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Alright, time out,” Tony interrupted, making a T with his hands. “The plan? Seems fine, seems plausible. The gauntlets? I can have them done in no time. All of this could work.” Tony paused, clenching his fist. “What I’m hung up on,” he continued slowly, “is the fact that while we all have these nifty little gauntlets to keep us as safe as possible, _you_ \--” he jabbed a finger at Peter and the Stone, “--are saying that you’re going to go through with all this, while that Stone is in your _chest."_  

Tony let his words sit in the air. “Peter,” he began, running a hand through his hair, “we have no idea what could happen to you if we do this.”

The Stone pulled back for a moment, allowing One to become two. Peter thought for himself for a moment, the sting in his eyes receding. He knew the risks, knew what could happen to him. But he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth not trying, he wasn’t worth risking trillions of souls, people, friends, families, partners. Peter couldn’t choose himself over all that. What kind of person was he if he did?

“I told you, Tony,” Peter, just Peter, finally said. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Tony insisted quickly, standing up. A mixture of determination and fear hardened in Tony’s expression. “I’m not. What if something goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work? What if it doesn’t work _because_ the Stone’s in your chest?”

“Tony--” Steve said softly, perhaps to try and reason with Tony, maybe to support him. But Tony cut him off before Steve could manage another syllable. 

“No,” he snapped, teeth bared almost as he pointed at Steve. He directed his finger to Peter them, saying, “He’s a kid! I don’t care what could happen, I don’t care if it would work in his chest. _I don’t care._ There are too many risks and I’m not about to take any of them. There _has_ to be another way; I could make an armor, or there might be some way to remove it, but we’re not--”

Peter was going to speak up, to insist that this was his choice, that he couldn’t just sit by and watch when he could do something to help. But before he could, he felt the Soul Stone pull taught on their connection and before Peter could take in a breath, he and the Stone became One.

The sting in his eyes became pure pain, the heat in his chest became fire. The golden world around him turned red. Peter tried to breathe with the Stone but his lung wouldn’t work; they didn’t need to. The Stone didn’t need to breathe so neither did Peter. Instead, the Stone--not Peter, not they, but _the_ _Stone_ \--stepped forward.

Everyone in the room stilled. The Stone saw Carol Danvers’ hand begin to glow. It was not afraid. Danvers was strong, but it was stronger. If need be, the Stone could simply turn her own powers against her, could turn any one of their powers against them. It would not be hard.

“Removal of the Stone is not an option,” it said.

“After this, it’s gonna be. Trust me,” Tony Stark muttered.

“Removing the Stone presents unknown results,” the Stone continued. “Even so, the outcome outweighs the risks.”

“Bullshit,” Stark bit out.

“I thought you said the Stone didn’t control you,” Natalia Romanova said, face black. The Stone could sense her nervousness though. You could not hide your emotions from something that could see into your very soul.

“The Stone is far older and stronger than anything on this or any other planet,” it said. “Peter Parker can be brushed aside if necessary.”

There was the sound of something charging up. The Stone looked to see Stark with his arm raised, a weapon forming over his hand from his nanotechnology armor. “You have ten seconds to give Peter the wheel,” he growled.

“Parker is not hurt,” the Stone carried on. Stark was not a threat, nor was his weapon. “It was easier to get you all to understand the situation if the Stone took control.”

“We understand the situation plenty,” Steven Rogers reasoned, holding his hands to his sides, a peaceful gesture. “We only want to make sure Peter isn’t hurt in the process.”

“It has already been said, removal of the Stone could ruin your chance of returning everyone,” the Stone reiterated. It was clear to the Stone that the people in front of it did not understand (especially Stark, whose arm was still raised). The Stone had patience however and would not stop until they understood and complied. “The entire plan in and of itself presents risks. You have to be willing to take them, and willing to lose to them.”

“We don’t trade lives,” Rogers insisted, voice low.

“Last time you stood by that, you lost.” They all flinched. “It may not be wanted but sometimes, sacrifice is necessary. The Stone is willing, Parker is willing. The only thing that stands in their way at the moment is you.” 

The room buzzed with energy. The Stone could feel each of their souls, rolling, rumbling. They all were resistant, scared. They didn’t know what could happen. Some were willing to try but most weren’t ready for the risks. Stark in particular. The man clearly loved Peter Parker. He seemed willing to do anything but the suggested plan.

Parker poked at the connection. The anger and confusion that had appeared when he had been pulled back were still there, just duller. Now he held more patience to see what would come of the conversation. The Stone reached back to Parker. The child hesitantly but bravely offered his thoughts.

“Peter--” the Stone noticed the way Stark straightened with the use of the name, “--says he has told you, Stark. He is willing to do this, despite the risks.”

Stark looked pained. His raised arm shook and the Stone knew it had nothing to do with exhaustion, just fear.

Parker reached into the connection again, a hum of determination coursing through him. The Stone pulled back, allowed Parker--Peter--more control. Soon it wasn’t just the Stone present, no longer one mind in control of its host, but one mind made of two and a body. The world turned back to its golden hues, the pain in their eyes calmed. Maybe this could convince them to fix it all.

“Tony.” Even though they were One, it was truly Peter who spoke. “If this plan can bring back everyone… what is one life over trillions?”

Something in them both told them that one life meant everything to Tony Stark.

The conversation did not continue, at least not with Tony. The man dropped his arm and stormed out. No one tried to call out or follow him. Peter told the Stone that was for the best. The signs of a panic attack settling in were not hard to detect in Tony. Peter, quietly, to himself, promised to check up on him as soon as they were done talking to the rest.

“Do we have any other plan?" 

Peter and the Stone looked over at Thor. The god had been very quiet since they arrived on Earth. It startled Peter to hear him speak.

They considered his words then shook their head. “Not really, no,” they told him. “We have one chance to fix this. This is it.”

The Stone felt something in them all shift. A new wave of determination, of acceptance, fell upon all of them. They each looked at one another, nodding when they made eye contact. There was something in their eyes, a mutual understand perhaps, that neither Peter or the Stone understood.

They didn’t take the time to analyze it.

Thor looked back to Peter and the Stone. Leaning against his ax, tilting his head slightly to the left, he said, “Then what are we waiting for?”

 

* * *

****

Peter was back to himself when he found Tony.

The others stayed to finalize the plan while Peter went and searched for his mentor. Peter worried over what he would say to Tony. He knew how much the plan, the situation was tearing Tony up. If he could provide his mentor any solace then he would. But Peter knew that Tony wanted him to stay out of it, to be safe and whole. And he just couldn’t do that, no matter how much Tony or even himself may have wanted it.

He found Tony in his room. Not the one Peter had slept in, but Tony’s actual room. Peter could sense Tony in there along with someone else. Pepper Potts, Peter knew. They were talking in hushed tones. Peter didn’t mean to eavesdrop but there was no other noise Peter seemed to be able to focus on.

“I don’t know what to do, Pep,” Tony spoke.

“Neither do I,” Pepper admitted.

“I just… I feel like, since he got back, he hasn’t been _here,_ y’know? He’s here, physically, but it’s not really Pete; it doesn’t feel like it. And I could ignore that, for the time being, but now…? Now it feels like I’m losing him all over again.” Tony sniffed and it occurred to Peter that he was probably crying. “I don’t think I can do that again, Pep.”  

There was some rustling, of sheets, of clothes. Peter knew that Pepper was holding Tony then. Pepper didn’t offer any words of comfort. Peter didn’t blame her, this wasn’t exactly a consolable situation. He was sure Tony didn’t blame her either. 

“I just got him back, regardless of that _fucking_ Stone, and I’m about to lose him again.” Tony’s words were choked, tight in his throat. “I can’t lose him again, Pepper, I can’t.”

Pepper began to whisper sweet nothings under her breath. It was more to fill the silence than for actual comfort. Peter figured she knew that she couldn’t comfort him at that moment, could only hold him and wait for the other shoe to fall.

Peter took in a deep breath, raised his hand to knock on the door and then let it drop. He would be doing nothing but hurting Tony by talking to him. He _was_ doing nothing but hurting Tony. Peter told himself that Tony could do without seeing him for the moment. They could talk when the plan was set in motion.

For now, Peter turned and walked back to the meeting room.

 

* * *

 

(Peter didn’t know this, neither did the Stone, but none of the others had moved from the meeting room. No, instead they stayed and talked and planned. Not about what they were about to do, but sometime after. The conversation between Peter and Tony—The Stone and Tony, had been enough to show just how much the kid meant to Tony.

“I’ve failed Tony before,” Steve said. “I’m not about to do it again.”

“We don’t know what could happen,” Rhodey reiterated.

“The boy said it all fell upon our intent,” Nebula said, voice low and steady. “If we want to save him, maybe that falls upon intent as well." 

Natasha sat up, eyes gleaming. Nebula was onto something. “We could intent to bring everyone back, then we could intend to keep Parker safe,” she summarized. 

“Would that do anything to us though?” Rhodey asked, scratching his face. No one answered.

Almost separate from the conversation, Carol and Thor shared a look. “Peter is willing to sacrifice himself for this,” Carol said quietly. “That amount of power on the Soul Stone’s part _alone_ could kill him.”

“We just have to make sure he’s not alone,” Thor decided. “On his own, he’s a child with the power of the universe. Together, we might be able to shoulder the burden with him.”

The words hung in the air, passed through their heads a million times over. Finally, Steve said, “If it could save Peter, save everyone, then I’m all for it.”

“It said we would fail if we weren’t willing to trade lives,” Nebula said 

“The Stone said we had to be willing to make sacrifices,” Carol countered. “I think we’re all willing.”

“Just not for Peter to be that sacrifice,” Rhodey finished, sending a faint smile to Carol.

She nodded, making eye contact with them all. “Nothing is happening to the kid,” she said, “not if we can help it.”

They all ignored the question of if they really could.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Check out my tumblr: neon-air


	3. an ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys continue to be amazing with your comments and love <3 thank you so much for it all, it means so much to me. SO turns out that this is going to be five chapters instead of four oops asjndkfbhdsj I really love writing this so i dont mind. 
> 
> BUT pay special attention to the last parts of this chapter, they're important to the next chapter!!

The day reached an end with finality. This was it. Their one chance and they all knew it. 

Peter sat on the balcony of his room, staring at the clock inside. The red lights flicked from 11:59 to 12:00. Peter’s heart jolted with the change. There was no turning back now. The gauntlets would be ready by tomorrow and then everyone would be brought back. 

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He was more than nervous; he was terrified. He had to do this, he knew he had to, but that didn’t erase his fear. He didn’t disagree with Tony’s concerns. Who knows what could happen to him? He could  _ die _ and there would be no coming back this time. No pocket dimension or Gamora to pull him out. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He tried to reason it out. He’d be saving trillions, reuniting families and friends. But he couldn’t help but consider Tony’s offer for a suit. What if saved him? That’s all his mind could come up with: what if, what if, what if, what if--

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the ground if you stare at it any longer.”

Peter turned around, startled. Tony just looked at him. “Didn’t hear you come in,” Peter said softly.

Tony shrugged and came to sit beside Peter. “Penny for your thoughts?” he said lightly. 

Peter bit at his lip, looking out to the sky. Thousands of stars covered it. It reminded Peter of the ship he, Tony and Doctor Strange had been on. A whole world rested outside of the atmosphere, beyond those stars. Families and friends, partners and co-workers. Trillions upon trillions of people out there. Trillion upon trillions of people in his chest. 

“I’m scared,” Peter said honestly. 

Tony took in a shaky breath and grabbed Peter’s shoulder. “Me too,” he responded quietly. “But we’re gonna do it anyway, huh?” 

“Who would we be if we didn’t?” Peter said. 

Tony didn’t respond, just squeezed Peter’s shoulder. After a moment of silence, Tony sighed. “You’re coming out of this alive, Peter,” he told Peter. “I’m not accepting any other outcome.” 

“Tony,” Peter whispered, eye closed. 

“No,” Tony interrupted, voice growing frantic but hardening with determination. “You’re not going anywhere. People need you, Pete. They need Spider-Man and they need you. May needs you, Ned needs you, even that girl you were telling me about months ago--Michelle or MJ, you were calling her--she needs you, okay?  _ I  _ need you, Peter. C’mon, kid… there’s gotta be another way.” 

There was something thick like tension in the air. Peter opened his eyes, blinking away the tears forming. “I don’t want to do this,” Peter admitted. 

“Then don’t.” 

Peter chuckled humorlessly. “That’s not an option,” he said. 

“Says who?” Tony demanded.  

“Says the Stone in my chest,” Peter snapped, turning to face Tony. “I don’t want to do this, but I’m going to.” 

“Then you’re coming out of it alive,” Tony gritted out. 

“You don’t know that!”

Tony stood up abruptly. Peter turned to follow his movements but didn’t get up. Tony paced the room, rubbing his forehead. Peter took in a deep breath. The Stone momentarily brushed the connection. It was more for comfort than action. Peter appreciated it all the same. “It’s all a gamble,” Peter spoke quietly. Tony stopped pacing but didn’t face Peter. “It’s always been a gamble. But it’s the best shot we have.” 

Peter paused a beat before standing up. “I remember what it was like in the Stone,” he told Tony. “It was dark but it was peaceful too. I could end up there again. Or I could end up here. We don’t know what’s going to happen.” 

He moved and stopped a few feet in front of Tony, giving him space. “None of us can promise anyone anything,” he continued, swallowing around the lump in his throat that had formed. “I can’t, you can’t, no one downstairs, upstairs can. We can only try.” 

Tony finally looked up at Peter. Tears filled Tony’s eyes, clinging to his eyelashes. Tony opened his mouth to speak but closed it. He closed his eyes too, letting a few tears fall. He breathed in sharply; it almost sounded painful. He rubbed his eyes, pushing aside the tears that continued to form. He opened his eyes, stepped forward, and breathed out, “I’m so sorry, Peter,” all in one movement. By the next second, he had Peter in his arms, an arm around his middle, a hand cradling Peter’s head. 

Peter wound his arms around Tony, pressing his face into Tony’s shoulder. It all felt too real then. The plan, the Stone, the risks and outcomes. It was all so real, no longer just an idea that could work. It was happening and there was no other choice.  _ He had to do this.  _

Peter choked on the next breath he took. Panic surged in him. He did his best to push it down but Tony seemed to sense it before he could. Tony’s grip tightened. Almost absentmindedly, he began to sway side to side, rocking them both in a soothing motion. Peter gripped at Tony’s shirt, twisting it in his fists. 

Neither spoke. There were no words to offer in a moment like that. They could only hold each other. They could only hope that, by tomorrow, they could do it again, both alive and breathing, crying out of joy and not dread.

For now, they just held each other.

 

* * *

 

Everyone worked through the night. 

Tony and Peter worked on the gauntlets in the compound’s labs. Bruce and Rocket eventually joined them, pushing their progress tenfold. Carol, Nebula, and Thor discussed the Stones, and which would go to who. Natasha, Steve, and Rhodey went to find a safe, open area to use. After all, who knows what kind of destruction this could cause? 

The whole world felt quiet. It was like someone had put the volume on low, permanently locking everyone in silence. Even the sounds from the labs felt soft like someone had put a blanket over the whole workshop. 

By the time those in the workshop had three gauntlets down, Peter went upstairs to get them all some to eat and drink. He had realized a little while ago that he hadn’t felt hungry or thirsty since he got back. He tried not to let it worry him. 

But just because he didn’t feel hungry or thirsty, didn’t mean the others didn’t too. Someone had to make sure they ate.

Peter gathered some water bottles and made a few sandwiches. It was the most normal thing he had done since he arrived at the compound. He liked it. It was simple and easy.  _ I could do this all day,  _ he thought to himself with a chuckle. 

He heard footsteps come up behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Pepper, dressed in a loose t-shirt and yoga pants. She greeted him with a small smile, which he returned. “Want some help?” she asked softly. 

“Sure,” he said. 

“Rocket is gonna want more than just two,” she told him. 

He huffed a laugh and asked, “What did you even think when he showed up?”

“Well, it’s not the first time there’s been a raccoon in the house,” Pepper explained, smiling when Peter giggled. 

“What?” he gasped through his laughter. 

She nodded. “One time, Tony thought staying up for almost three days straight would be a good idea. He was working on this project and made some sort of breakthrough and just kinda forgot to stop working. At one point, he went outside and I didn’t really think any of it.” She began to laugh as she continued, “Two minutes later he came back with a wriggling raccoon in his hands. He insisted that it was for the project. I didn’t know whether to be furious, scared or just burst out laughing.” 

Peter laughed, imagining Tony running around frantic with a  _ raccoon _ . “God, what would he do without you?” he mumbled. 

“Who knows.” Pepper shrugged, a smile still tugging at her lips. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, only breaking it when Pepper told Peter that they’d need to make more sandwiches. “Rocket eats a lot,” she explained, “and once Bruce and Tony get out of their working trance, they’ll be starving.” 

They made sandwiches until they had more than enough. Instead of heading back to the labs, Peter lifted himself up onto the kitchen counter and nibbled on a sandwich. He wasn’t hungry but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least snack. Pepper, surprisingly, followed his lead, hopping up onto the counter and grabbing a sandwich. The fell had settled again before Pepper spoke. “Tony told me the plan,” she said. “I think you’re all insane.” 

“Probably,” Peter agreed. 

“I bet you he’s making a suit for you,” she told him. Her tone was light but Peter knew it was for show. She knew the weight of the situation. She knew, better than Peter, what was going through Tony’s head. 

“I bet you he’s already made one,” he said anyway. There was no harm in pretending, in forcing a lightness. 

Pepper didn’t respond immediately. She took her time to think over her words. She breathed in deeply and said, “He loves you, Peter. You know that, right?” 

Peter stared at the floor. He gulped, wishing the burning in his eyes was from the Stone, not tears. He knew Tony loved him, he  _ knew  _ it. Coming back, seeing Tony again, and seeing his reaction to Peter? There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that Tony loved him. But that made it worse. Because there was a chance that he would be leaving Tony behind. Peter knew that the guilt of that would destroy Tony. It would destroy May and Ned, the Avengers. If he died during this all, they would blame themselves. He knew they would. That made it worse. It made it harder to leave.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nodding his head, “I know.” 

“I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone like this,” Pepper continued. “You mean the world to him, Peter.” She let out a small chuckle, shaking her head as she said, “He’s always been a little awkward around kids, doesn’t really know how to take care of them. He’s not bad with them, just flounders a little. But with you… he  _ wants  _ to know how to work with kids, or people your age. He wants to spend time with you and teach you. He wants you to be better; he believes and trusts that you can be. Everything you do, he wants to frame the moment and put on the wall. He’s so proud of you, Pete. So proud.” 

Peter didn’t bother to wipe the tears. Tony was still learning to express his emotions to Peter. “Trying to break the cycle” as Tony put it. But Tony was still learning, as was Peter. To wonder how Tony felt, to think and speculate and assume, was one thing. To hear it from Pepper, Tony’s fiance, one of his  _ best friends,  _ it was something else entirely. 

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad,” Pepper told him, “or to try and convince you not to go through with the plan. I know that nothing will convince to do that. You and Tony are alike in that way. You’ll do what you believe is right, especially if you have the power to. I’m telling you this because I think you need to know. I think it needs to be cemented in your mind, just how much he loves you.” 

Peter pressed his hand to his mouth, desperately trying to conceal his sobs. He managed to catch his breath a few moments later. “Has anyone ever told you that you are an amazing person?” he gasped out, looking over to Pepper. 

Her eyes were teary around the edges but she was smiling, something fond in her expression. “Yes,” she said confidently, “but I don’t mind hearing it from you too.” 

They giggled, sharing a moment of levity. “Thank you,” Peter choked out, wiping away his tears. 

“I think you needed to hear. Not just now, but in general,” Pepper told him.

“I think so too,” Peter agreed, nodding his head. 

He took a brief second to look at Pepper. She was such an incredible person. Peter could see why Tony loved her. Peter wouldn’t have understood it if Tony  _ didn’t  _ love her.

In that brief second, the Soul Stone rose to connection. With that, it brought an awareness of the souls around them. The ones in the lab, the ones in the meeting room, the ones of the animals outside, the two with Pepper, the ones farther than Peter knew, the ones--

Peter stilled. 

There were  _ two souls  _ in Pepper. Two of them. 

One near her heart, nestled in her chest. One, much smaller-- _ so much smaller _ \--nestled in her stomach. 

Pepper was--

“Pregnant,” Peter murmured. 

“What?” Pepper said, eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Pregnant,” he repeated louder. “You’re pregnant.”

Pepper froze, expression falling. Her hand, almost subconsciously, rested on her stomach. She swallowed hard, eyes falling to the ground. “One month,” she whispered.

Peter breathed in sharply. “Were we gone when you found out?” he asked, voice just as low and quiet. 

Pepper nodded solemnly. “Do-Does Tony know?” he rasped. 

Pepper sniffed and rubbed her belly with her thumb. “He was gone by the time I knew,” she explained, “but when he got back, I--he had just lost you.” Peter flinched. “He thinks of you like a son, Pete. I didn’t know how to handle the news of the pregnancy, I didn’t know how to handle having him back. I thought it would be best to wait to tell him. I haven’t told  _ anyone  _ actually. I think Nat may know though.” 

“You should,” Peter said quickly. “Tell him, I mean.” 

Pepper pursed her lips, shrugging. She looked back up to him. “I don’t know how to handle any of this,” she told him. “I’m the CEO of Stark Industries, I’ve seen just about everything you could think of in the world of business. But I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“I think pregnancy and having your fiance disappear into space and come back a month later, is a little different from being CEO,” Peter joked gently, smiling weakly. 

Pepper let out a wet chuckle. “You have a point,” she admitted. She then laughed, louder and stronger, and said, “Y’know, before he left, he told me that he had a dream. That it was about us having a kid. ‘It was so real’ he said. He told me that the kid’s name was Morgan, after my uncle.” 

“Morgan,” Peter repeated quietly, a true smiling forming on his lips. “I like it. Morgan Stark. Or Potts.

“I was thinking Harlow for a middle name if its a girl,” Pepper continued. Something about her tone was lighter, like the weight of this secret was just a little less. “Derek for a boy maybe.” 

“Morgan Harlow Stark Potts, or Morgan Derek Stark Potts,” he said with a giggle. “Quite the mouth full.”

Pepper chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Well,” she said primly, tossing her hair away from her eyes, “you can help us figure out names after all of this.”

Peter didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. He was sure she knew that though. Still, he smiled and nodded. 

“Pete?” 

The two looked over towards the halls. Tony emerged, looking around for Peter. His eyes landed on the boy and he relaxed. “What are you to doing?” he asked, walking towards them. 

“Plotting,” Peter said immediately. Pepper smirked at him, hand falling from her stomach subtly. 

“Against who?” Tony continued, grabbing a sandwich from the pile.

“You,” Pepper said, hopping off the counter. She gave Tony a kiss on the cheek before leaning against the same counter Tony was. 

Tony put a hand to his chest dramatically. “What did I do to deserve being plotted against?” he asked.

“You stole my foundation a little while ago and didn’t give it back,” Pepper explained simply, shrugging her shoulders as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Peter has joined my ranks.” 

“Peter, how could you?” Tony demanded with false hurt. A smile was poking at his lips. 

“I dunno, Tony,” Peter said, “stealing foundation is pretty bad.”

Tony groaned, tossing his head back in faux annoyance. “The betrayal,” he muttered. 

Pepper smiled and kissed his cheek again. “We also got side-tracked while making sandwiches,” she added. “But I’ll let you eat and get back to work.”

“Thank you, dearest,” Tony said, returning the smile. He grabbed the plate of sandwiches while Peter grabbed the water bottles. “C’mon, Petey. We’ve got work to do.”

Peter lingered long enough to say another thank you to Pepper before following Tony back to the labs.

 

* * *

 

The gauntlets were finished. An area had been chosen. The last things to do was set to give each Stone to a host and snap their fingers. 

Everyone gathered in the meeting room. Tension filled the air and dread made them choke on it. Peter felt like his heart would burst out of his chest; it was beating so hard. They were doing this. No turning back now.

The gauntlet sat on the table with their own, workshop made gauntlets beside it. “Peter said the Stones are sentient,” Carol began. “They have a mind of their own. Thor, Nebula and I agreed that forcing a Stone to work with a wielder that may not be compatible wouldn’t work. We thought it would be best to let the Stones decide.”

“Peter will pull the Stones from the gauntlet and let them direct themselves to their wielder,” Thor finished. 

“When the Stones settle, it will be painful,” Nebula warned, “but it will be worth it.” 

Eyes fell on Peter. He took in a deep breath, already reaching for the connection. “Let’s get started then,” he said, looking to each of them.

Peter stood as the connection slid into place, eyes stinging. Two became One. They walked to the gauntlet, listening to the Stones. The Space Stone was listening just as intently. She wanted to know what would happen, what she would be doing. They didn’t feel much resistance. The Time Stone was buzzing, running through millions of possibilities. There was something like excitement coursing through it. It wanted to know which reality would unfurl. The Mind Stone wasn’t quiet, but not as loud as the others. It was listening and waiting. The Power Stone hummed, begging to be let out, to work and  _ burn _ . The Reality Stone wished to work alongside it. It wanted to expand, to see what would come of all this. 

They were all willing though. The Stones’ motivations might have been different from the Soul Stone’s, from each other’s, but they were willing. In the end, that’s all that mattered. Now it was just a question of the Avengers will. 

Peter and the Stone raised their hand, golden lights forming. The light began to emit from the Stones too. They clenched their hand into a fist, pulling it closer to their chest, not a forceful motion but a compelling one. The Stones would move, would come out. It didn’t matter if they wanted to or not. 

The Stones broke free of the gauntlet. The whole room was silent, waiting. Peter and the Stone brought the Stones in front of them. Pouring the message of their new purpose into the connections, they opened their hand. The Stones rose into a circle formation and floated. A melancholy feeling filled them. This was it. They would be used one last time before they could sleep again. One last time.

They held out their hand and let the Stones wander. They would all be able to choose their wielder. For a moment, they stayed in the air, minutely bobbing up and down. The Mind Stone moved first. It slowly descended to rest right in front of Tony. The man took in a deep breath and steeled his features, clenching his jaw. Determination seemed to cement itself into his very bones.

The Time Stone was next. It drifted between Rhodey and Carol to reside before Steve. He stared at the Stone as if he could communicate with it too. 

The Space and Power Stone moved almost simultaneously. Peter and the Stone had felt them briefly reach out to each other like they were asking permission to choose. The Space Stone stopped in front of Carol and the Power Stone in front of Thor. The two looked to each other as though sharing a secret. Carol smirked something fierce. 

Finally, the Reality Stone moved last. It floated quickly over to Natasha. She gazed at the Stone, a bitter yet accepting look gracing her features. She gave a minute nod of her head. 

Bruce stood and walked slowly to the table. He grabbed the workshop made gauntlets. He distributed the gauntlets among the wielders. They all put on the gauntlets, locking each into place. Peter and the Stone then let the Stones go and settle into the gauntlets. Immediately the Stones’ powers coursed through their wielders. They all let out shouts of pain, not expecting the sudden burn. Natasha gripped at her wrist, hunching over herself ever so slightly. Tony was in a similar position. Steve clenched his fists, placing his gauntlet free hand on the table to support himself. Thor’s skin crackled with electricity, with power. He had his eyes closed, jaw clenched. Carol’s face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set straight. Her hands glowed the colors of a nebula. She seemed to be in the least amount of pain. 

Just as quickly as the pain set in, it disappeared. The others were left gasping, reeling from the sudden overload of power. They all caught their breath eventually. A look was shared between them all. Something in the air pulled taught, something final and irreversible.

_ This was it.  _

Steve straightened his back. Captain America was ready. He raised his chin and looked them all. Finally, he said, “Let’s go fix the mess that son of a bitch made.” 

 

* * *

The quinjet was quiet as it flew to the safe area Natasha, Rhodey and Steve decided on.

Peter was in his nano-tech suit again. It felt a little odd to be back in it. He had fought and died in it, brought back to life in it. Who knows what would happen this time?

Peter was sitting closer to the back of the plane. The others, those with Stones or without, were up front, talking quietly to themselves. Peter sat with his legs pulled up onto his seat, crisscrossed. He busied his mind with reaching out to the souls in his chest. He ran over the connection, picking up names at random. Gamora, Nick Young, Mary Downey, Peter Quill, Nixez, Adena Zola, Amadi Vega, Lila Barton, James Barnes, Ila, Cherry Brooch, Hadden Flore, Hope van Dyne, Talos, Julia Rodriguez. 

That was barely the tip of the iceberg. Fifteen names out of trillions. 

Peter closed his eyes and sighed, leaning back against the wall. Soon they would all be back. Every soul in his chest would be free to live and breathe again. The Soul Stone itself could be free again, could go back to the cliff it used to reside on. Peter only wondered what would happen to him after all of this. 

“You ready for this?” 

Peter opened his eyes to see Carol, back in her suit, a gauntlet on. She was leaning against the same wall just a few feet from him. “Not at all,” he responded. 

Carol chuckled. “I don’t blame you,” she said, taking a seat. 

“I think you’re very brave for doing this,” she told him. 

“Probably very stupid too,” Peter joked, huffing a laugh. 

“That too,” she smiled, “but aren’t we all?”

Peter chuckled. They sat in silence for a moment before Carol spoke, “I kind of understand what it’s like. Having a Stone being apart of you.” She raised her gauntlet free hand, a multicolor glow emitting from it. “I have my powers because of the Space Stone. Or the Tesseract, really. It doesn’t speak to me or anything like that. But I get what it’s like, to have something else within you that you don’t understand a hundred percent.” 

She dropped her hand and turned back to him. “But hey,” she continued, “at the end of all this, if the Stone is still alive in your chest, then maybe I can teach you a thing or two.” 

Peter smiled, looking to her muscled arms. “I think you could teach me a thing or two regardless of the Stone,” he admitted. “I don’t think anyone else on this plane could match you for strength.” 

She chortled, mirth shining in her eyes. “Probably not,” she agreed, smirking. “But we’ll let them think they have a chance.” She added in a wink. 

The silence settled again. Their eyes fell to the floor. The rumble of the quinjet was slowing down. They were almost there. “You’re gonna be okay, kid,” Carol said suddenly. 

Peter’s gaze snapped up to her. Her eyes stayed on the floor. “I have a daughter,” she told him softly. “Well, she’s my wife’s daughter. I love her like she’s my own. She…” Carol took in a shaky breath, “they both disappeared after the snap. I--”

“What’s their names?” Peter asked. 

Carol glanced at him. “Maria and Monica Rambeau,” she whispered, the names coming out like sacred words. 

Peter reached for the connection, the names repeating in his mind. They were both asleep when he found them. They were close to each other, almost touching. They weren’t aware, stuck in the darkness. Stuck in sleep. “They’re here,” he said. “They’re asleep but they’re here.”

“Are they safe?” Carol asked quickly. 

Peter nodded because really, they were. The Soul Stone did not hurt them, only held them. Carol closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. “Thank God,” she muttered. She then opened her and nodded to Peter. “Thank you. That helps a little.” 

“They’ll be back within the hour,” he promised. 

“And you’ll be there to met them,” Carol insisted. It didn’t sound like hoping though. She wasn’t hoping that he’d be there. It sounded more like a fact, like she knew he was going to get out of this. There was something so strong, so firm in her voice. 

For a second, Peter allowed himself to maybe believe her. 

 

* * *

 

The quinjet landed in an open field. 

They walked out in silence, the sun just beginning to rise. There was something poetic to it. 

They walked past the tall grass and stopped when Steve did. Those with gauntlets stood in a circle. Pepper, Rhodey, Bruce, Rocket, and Nebula stood to the side. For a moment, they just stood there, listening to the world around them. It was Steve who spoke first. 

“Today we bring back everyone,” he began. “Everyone Thanos took from us. That’s what we focus on. That’s our intent. We won’t stop until everyone comes back. Whatever it takes.”

Carol held her gauntlet-clad hand in front of her. “For Maria and Monica,” she said, “for Fury.” 

“For Bucky and Sam,” Steve continued. “For T’Challa.”  

“For Groot, Drax, Mantis, Quill,” Rocket said.

“For Gamora,” Nebula whispered. 

“For Wanda,” Natasha spoke.

“For my people,” Thor gritted out. “For Loki.” 

“For Strange,” Tony said. His free hand briefly touched the gauntlet, fingers nearly brushing the Mind Stone. “For Vision.” 

“For everyone Thanos took from us,” Peter finished.  _ For Morgan,  _ he thought to himself,  _ so they won’t have to live in a broken world _ . “For those we know, and those we don’t. They’re all coming back.” 

With the final word out of his mouth, Peter reached for the connection to the Soul Stone and two became One. The sting in his eyes, the heat in his cheat kept them grounded. The souls, the ones aware and awake, rejoiced. They would be going home. They were being saved.

Peter and the Stone breathed together. One last chance, that’s all they had. Both were willing to do whatever it took.

The others engaged with their Stones. Their gauntlets sealed around their hands. Peter and the Stone spoke. “Put your free hand on the wielder next to you,” they instructed. “We need to be the connection for each Stone.” 

“Close the circuit,” Tony summarized. 

“Exactly. Fair warning, however. It will be painful. Do not resist.” 

They were the first to move. They placed their left hand on Natasha’s shoulder. Immediately the power of the Soul Stone flowed into her and the power of the Reality Stone flowed into them. The Reality Stone felt different. It was heat, like the Soul Stone, but it was restless too. The Soul Stone was patient, smooth. The Reality Stone moved and squirmed.

Because the Reality Stone burned like the Soul Stone, they found it easier to grit their teeth and bear the pain. Natasha seemed to be feeling the same, only a slight grunt escaping her lips. Golden light ran up her arm, showing through her armor, like blood in the veins. 

Tony grabbed Peter and the Stone’s shoulder a second before the others completed the circle. They felt the cool, water like feeling of the Mind Stone enter their body. Then came the Time, the Space, and Power Stones. The Time Stone felt like static squirming under their skin. The Space Stone was dizzying, filling their mind the powers of the galaxy. The Power Stone burned in their gut, loud and strong. 

Under that, all was pure  _ pain _ .  

The weight of one Stone was enough to put a host in constant pain. The weight of all them, even when the power was distributed between six people, felt like being burned alive. It never ended. 

Distantly, in the connection, Peter felt like he was dying, turning to dust all over again. 

The pain didn’t stop, just dulled. It was enough for Peter and the Stone to catch their breath and call out, “Focus! Focus on the intent!” 

The others managed to straighten, to pull themselves together. The wind around them swirled and battered. Together they all focused, pouring everything they had into their intent. 

_ Safely bring back everyone Thanos took,  _ they all thought until nothing else resided in their mind but that.  _ Safely bring back everyone Thanos took, safely bring back everyone Thanos took, safely bring back everyone Thanos took.  _

_ Peter is not the sacrifice,  _ five out of six in the circle added. The sixth was unaware of the others’ hope.  _ Peter is not the sacrifice, Peter is not the sacrifice, Peter is not the sacrifice, Peter is not the sacrifice.  _

Peter and the Stone didn’t know if the others felt it, the moment it all fell into place. The Stones allowed themselves to be used, let go of whatever other ambitions they had themselves. They would comply; they would bend to their wielders’ will. 

In the end, it didn’t matter if the others felt it. Because Peter and the Stone did and that was enough. In the end, all they knew was that this would work. So, taking one last look at the people around them, they closed their eyes and raised their hand and--

Together they breathed and snapped their fingers. 

 

* * *

 

When they--when  _ Peter _ opened his eyes, nothing hurt. 

There was no aches or pinches, no breaks or stings. Nothing hurt. It felt wrong. He had grown so accustomed to pain and now it was just-- gone. 

The sky above him was heavily saturated in pink, orange, and gold. It looked familiar but he knew it was nothing he had seen on Earth. When he moved, rolled his shoulders back, they met water that didn’t soak into his suit. Didn’t even make a sound. 

Peter knew where he was. 

He sat up and looked around. Pink, orange, gold; it was everywhere. There was nothing else besides pink, orange, gold and him. He looked down at his chest. The Stone was still there but it wasn’t quite the same. It was undamaged but it was quiet. He tried to reach at the connection but he felt nothing in response. The connection was still there, still in the right corner of his mind, but it… it was sleeping, he realized, resting for the first time in God knows how long. 

Then why was he there?

As he stood up, he noticed how empty his chest felt. It was hollow, bare. There was nothing there. No souls, he realized. Then had it work? Was everyone back? 

_ Am I alive?  _ he wondered. It wouldn’t make sense. If he was, why wasn’t he back in the field? Why wasn’t he surrounded by the others, wondering and hoping if it worked? Why wasn’t he with them when they realized it  _ did  _ work? Why was he there? 

He looked around, searching for the gazebo. When he thought about it, he figured it wouldn’t show up. The Stone had formed it, the younger Gamora as well. But now the Stone was asleep and he was there. It wasn’t too bad, he supposed. It was nice and calm, not too warm, not too cold. Maybe he should fall asleep too.

There seemed to be music coming from somewhere. It was soft and soothing, accompanied by a crooning sound. A voice maybe. Peter found himself smiling, turning his face to the golden sky. He could fall asleep. He could rest. He could lie down and sleep with the Stone. That didn’t sound too bad. 

“Peter?” 

Peter turned around and--

No. 

No no no no no. 

“Peter? Ho-How are you here?” 

It was an illusion, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t him, it wasn’t him. 

Gamora hadn’t been truly real either. She had been just a projection from Thanos. That’s all this was too. Just a projection.

“Pete? Hey, hey, it’s okay, Pete.” 

Benjamin Parker took a step forward. 

Peter Parker took a step back. 

“You’re not here,” he whispered, tears already forming and falling, “you’re not real.”

“Peter,” Ben said calmly. It sounded  _ just like him _ . “Pete, it’s okay, I promise. I’m here.” 

“No,” Peter choked out, backing up, shaking his head. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. “You’re not here, you’re not here.” He sucked in a breath, a whine rising to his throat. “Why did it have to choose you? Why  _ you _ ?” 

“Peter, hun,” Ben pleaded, arms held out in a peaceful gesture. “It’s okay, Petey. You need to breathe, okay? I need you to breathe with me.” 

“Please, stop!” he cried, finally able to close his eyes. He grabbed his hair and tugged, hoping the pain would do something, anything. “Please stop.”

“Peter, breathe--” 

“Stop it!” Peter yelled. 

Hands grabbed onto him, one on his shoulder, one cupping his face. Peter flinched away because the last time Ben held his face like that, he was on the pavement, bleeding.

“Peter, look at me,” Ben whispered calmly. “Look at me.” 

Peter heaved a sob, wanting to sink into the ground. He wanted to be in the darkness. Seeing Ben was just torture. He wasn’t real, it was just some illusion. Ben was  _ dead  _ and it had been Peter’s fault. He could’ve stopped it, he could’ve saved him. Was this how he was going to spend the rest of his life? A phantom of Ben haunting him? What had he done to deserve this? Was this the price he had to pay for his sacrifice? 

“Peter, hun, please look at me,” Ben pled. 

“Please,” Peter whimpered. “Please stop.” 

“I swear to you, I am here, I am here.”    


Peter pressed his lips together, pushing down the sobs. He felt like he was going to be sick. He squeezed his eyes shut further. “I’m sorry,” he cried. 

“Huh?” Ben sounded confused. “Pete, what’d you say?” 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated louder. 

There was silence for a split second before Ben breathed out, “Oh, Peter,” coaxed his arms away from his hair and pull him to his chest. Strong arms wound around him, one cradling his head, the other around his waist. Peter briefly wondered if illusions were supposed to be warm. Because Ben was. He was warm and when Peter held his breath, he felt a heartbeat. 

Was that apart of the trick? 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Ben whispered, swaying them back and forth. “It wasn’t your fault; I’m here now. It’s okay, Pete. It’s all okay. I promise you. It’s okay, it’s alright.” 

Peter shook his head frantically, tripping backward slightly. “No,” he said, “it’s not. I can’t do this.” His arms were trapped up against his chest. 

“Peter, sweetheart,” Ben stressed, “I swear,  _ honor bright _ , it’s okay. I’m here.” 

Peter stopped.

Honor bright. Peter only used that with May and Ben. He may have sworn “honor bright” to others, with Tony maybe, but only May and Ben said it back.  _ Only  _ May and Ben.

Illusions weren’t supposed to be warm. They weren’t supposed to have heartbeats. They weren’t supposed to know honor brights. 

Peter caught his breath, opened his eyes, and pulled back.

Ben looked like just as he had when he was alive. His skin a warm olive, his eyes an even warmer brown. His glasses were a little crooked like always. He was wearing that itchy sweater he insisted was the most comfortable thing he’d ever worn. 

“Ben?” he dared to say.

Ben smiled, crows feet becoming more prominent, and nodded frantically. His eyes became misty. “Yeah, Pete, it’s me. It’s okay,” he soothed. 

“Honor bright?” Peter had to make sure. 

Ben huffed a laugh. “Honor bright, Pete.” 

Peter didn’t waste a second longer, grabbing onto Ben with everything he had. He clung to him, tears starting up all over again. He felt his legs give out but he didn’t let go, didn’t bother to get his feet underneath him again. Ben was right there and he was real and breathing and living, and dammit if Peter was going to let go.

“It’s okay, Petey, I’ve got you,” Ben hummed. 

He brought them down to the ground, neither one letting go. They huddled together on the water ground. Peter savored every moment, every tick of Ben’s heartbeat, every time Ben rubbed his back. If he closed his eyes and let the world fall away, he could almost believe he was twelve again, being soothed back to sleep after a nightmare. He could almost imagine May holding his hand as he sobbed into Ben’s nightshirt. He could almost feel her squeeze his hand three times, her silent way of telling him she loved him. 

That felt like so long ago. 

He squeezed the sweater twisted in his fist three times back anyway. If not for May, then for Ben. He felt three taps on his back. He tightened his grip. 

Peter didn’t know how long they sat there. He didn’t care. Ben was dead but now he was here. He wanted to cherish every moment he had with Ben. 

“Pete,” Ben said softly. 

Peter sniffed and hummed in response. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, hun, but how are you here?” Ben asked.

Peter pulled back, not away. He wiped his eyes, pushing away any stray tears. “It’s a long story,” he said meekly, not making eye contact. He played with the loose strand on the cuff of the sweater.

“I think we’ve got time,” Ben said. 

Peter gave a breathy laugh. “I guess,” he admitted. “What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Especially if it has to do with your current getup.” 

Peter laughed heartily. He was still in his nano-tech suit. He imagined Ben would’ve found it a little odd. “Okay,” he said. 

He told Ben everything. Right from the beginning to the end. He told him about the spider bite and how guilt he felt that he didn’t use his then new powers to save him (Ben just held him closer). He told Ben that it was his words that motivated him to use his powers. He told him about his homemade suit. He told him about the first six months he worked alone, leaving out the details about the injuries he had obtained. He told Ben about being recruited by Tony Stark and going to Germany. He told him about homecoming and Liz. He told him about regular patrols and working in the labs with Tony. He told him about leaving the school bus to help Tony and Doctor Strange. He told him about space and the Stones. He didn’t tell him about Titan or dying or the Soul Stone in his chest. Instead, he filled that with stories about Ned and MJ, about May and how she’s still a terrible cook. He told Ben stories about Tony and Rhodey bickering and throwing soap suds at each other while washing the dishes. He told him stories about Happy who isn’t actually always happy. He told him stories about Pepper and how she is terrifying and amazing. 

Hundreds and hundreds of stories poured from his mouth. Even the smaller ones, mostly from patrols, were told. It felt relieving to say it, the good and the bad. Everything was out in the open to someone who meant everything to Peter.

“Lord, Peter,” Ben sighed after Peter finished. “You’ve been busy.”

Peter chuckled. “You have no idea,” he said. 

They fell into a comfortable silence. Sitting side by side, Peter leaned against Ben. He felt like he could breathe easy for the first time in far too long. “Now what?” Ben asked into the silence. 

Peter took his time to consider it. The Stone was asleep, dormant and quiet. He was in the pocket universe. Ben was here. There didn’t seem to be any chance of getting out of there, at least not any time soon. 

He breathed in shakily. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who is confused as to how Peter survived and why Ben is here, here's an explanation. Peter's soul was the sacrifice for everyone else's. He was the one who snapped, thusly taking the brunt of all that power. He isn't dead though! Don't worry! He's not dead because of the other's intent to keep him safe. Ben is here because not only is he connected to Peter (Pete was there when he died specifically) but because, just like Gamora was a projection of her soul from Thanos, Ben is a projection of his soul from Peter. Hope this clears up any confusion!
> 
> Also if anyone doesn't know what an honor bright is, it's like a promise but much more important. It's a thing in my family; if you promise honor bright, you cannot break that. It means a lot to me so I thought that it would be something the Parkers would do. 
> 
> Anyway...
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Check out my tumblr: neon-air


	4. a beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four!! its here!! and chapter FIVE will be here tomorrow! i already feel very bittersweet about this story coming to an end. i adore this story and i never want to stop writing it, but alas! all things must come to an end. 
> 
> ANYWAY here is chapter four. i have no idea how hospitals work or any medial procedures. if you happen to know how they work, feel free to drag me. 
> 
> SMALL WARNING: THERE ARE SOME GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURIES. its nothing too horrible, i just thought i should give a warning sooooo
> 
> hope you all enjoy it!

When Tony opened his eyes, everything hurt. Like  _ everything _ hurt. The very feeling of his hair on his head hurt. 

He wasn’t in the field anymore. Later, when he could think about it, he could distantly remember being on the ground of the field and being carried to the quinjet. But for now, all he knew was that he wasn’t in the field anymore. Instead, he was surrounded by white walls and dim lights. 

A hospital, he realized, that’s where he was. 

He tried to shift, tried to look around, but moving was too painful. He just squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a groan. 

“Tony?” 

He opened his eyes and looked to his left. Pepper was sitting there, jaw dropped, eyes wide. Oh wonderful, beautiful, amazing Pepper. She was here, she was safe. “Hi,” he said lamely. 

Tears pooled in her eyes. She smiled brightly. God, he loved her. “What?” he found himself saying, “Tears for your not so long, not even lost boss?” 

She laughed at the familiar words. She got up from her seat and bent down. She kissed him, pulling back to say, “Please. I’ve been the boss since the very beginning and you know it.” 

“Of course I do,” he said immediately, unashamedly. “I’ve always known that.” 

“Just took you a couple of years to admit it,” she teased. She pulled the seat closer to the bed and took his hand. She asked seriously, “How do you feel?” 

“Like I got hit by ten trucks in six consecutive seconds,” he told her. “But y’know. I’m fine.” 

“Always are, huh?” Pepper mumbled, strained. Her eyes never left his. 

“Where are we?” he asked. “Where are the others?” 

“Fury had a special group of people working behind the scenes to keep SHIELD level like programs running. This hospital is one of them,” Pepper explained. “The others are here too, in the rooms next door.”

“I’ve always wanted to be neighbors with at least  _ one  _ Mr. Rogers,” Tony mused. 

Pepper chuckled, some stress disappearing from her eyes. “Did it work?” Tony asked, voice small, tentative, scared. He knew Pepper could see that. He never had to hide with her. 

She smiled, pride obvious in her features. She didn’t answer him, just stood and grabbed the TV remote from the little stool that stood in the far right corner of the room. She turned on the TV and clicked her way to a news channel. 

“-- a miracle! Just about twenty-five days ago, devastation ripped through our world.  _ Half  _ of everything living creature on planet Earth was turned to ash, vanished completely. With the public in panic, every world leader still alive came together to design a plan to tackle this colossal loss. However, by a miracle, less than a day ago, it is reported that everyone who had previously vanished has returned! Each country and state officials are still searching for every last person who has returned. We have heard a response from Wakanda’s general of the Dora Milaje, Okoye, that the remaining Avengers had a great deal in this triumph. Although none of the Avengers have been seen or heard from since half the population disappeared, many are already praising their supposed involvement. We--” 

Tony didn’t hear the rest of the reporter’s words. 

Everyone was back. 

They had done it.

They had won. 

_ Thanos had lost. _

A sob tore its way from his mouth. He clamped his hand over his mouth, muffling the cries to the best of his ability. He closed his eyes and let the thought repeat in his mind.  _ They had won. Thanos had lost.  _

Pepper came to his side, hugging him best she could. “It’s okay,” she soothed, “it’s okay. You did it. You all did it.” 

“We did it,” he choked out, removing his hand from his mouth to hold her better. “We did it. Oh, God, we  _ won. _ ” 

“You can rest now, Tony.” Tony’s breath hitched. He could. He could rest now. There was no more threat now. Nothing to prepare for. Dreams of the invasion were just that now, just dreams. Thoughts and plans of new suits for new threats were going to remain just thoughts and plans. He could  _ rest.  _

“Let’s get a lakehouse,” he said, not detaching himself from Pepper. “Just a nice little place by a lake and stay there. Nothing too big, just enough for two.” 

“Or three.” 

Tony opened his eyes. He did pull back this time. “Three?” he repeated, not catching her train of thought. 

For a moment, she looked nervous, scared even. But Pepper Potts was nothing less than an amazing, badass woman. She took in a deep breath, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes for a brief moment. Had it been anyone else, Tony would’ve pushed, but he had all the patience in the world for Pepper. 

She looked Tony directly in the eyes, determined and steel-willed. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. “Three,” she whispered, holding his hand there. 

Silence. 

Tony stared at Pepper. Pepper stared at Tony. 

Silence.

Finally Tony managed to say, “Pepper… Pep, are you…?” 

“Pregnant,” she finished for him. “One month.” 

All Tony could feel was anticipation, fear, shock, but most of all  _ happiness _ . 

Tony couldn’t speak. There were no words to speak in the first place. How do you respond to that?

“I was thinking ‘Morgan’ for a name,” she continued softly, “after--” 

“Your crazy uncle,” he said, a smile slowly breaking out onto his lips. He took in a deep breath and said, “Promise me this isn’t a dream.” 

Something loosened in her expression. “Farthest thing from it,” she told him, smiling back. It fell slightly though. She shifted in her seat and asked, “You’re not upset?” 

Tony didn’t respond. He sat up even though it hurt, and pulled Pepper closer so that she was almost in his lap. Somehow he managed to bend down and kiss her belly, even though that hurt too. He looked back at her, making sure every piece of worry was gone from her expression. “Farther thing from it,” he told her sincerely. 

The smile that graced her lips was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen. 

“I love you,” he said. “And I’m gonna love Morgan just as much.”

She laughed wetly. “I love you too,” she said, “and I’ll love Morgan just as much.” The relief was so evident in her voice. He told himself that he would never make her doubt like that ever again. For now, they both leaned in and kissed, a promise of a new, safer, kinder life shared between their lips.

Tony decided right there and then that it would all be okay. He would’ve believed himself, right there and then, had it not been for one thing…

 

* * *

 

...Peter.

By the time Tony had been able to get up, he demanded that he see Peter and the others. If Tony was up, then the others must’ve been too. He wanted to share the news, both about their victory and the fact that he was going to be a father. 

He had to be in a wheelchair for the time being. His body could only take so much. Being malnourished and dehydrated, then taking on the power of the universe only days after barely recovering seemed to be his limit. He didn’t mind the wheelchair so much though. Pepper was constantly by his side, which he wasn’t about to complain about. Rhodey, who cried upon seeing Tony awake and upon hearing the news that he would be an uncle, was there too. 

Everyone was awake. Carol had been the first to wake up. She stayed in the hospital to wait for the others. Tony heard that the first thing she did was call her wife and kid. Tony had pulled aside a genuinely happy looking Happy to schedule a plane flight to bring them to Carol. Thor had been next to wake up apparently. He had wanted to leave to search for his people. Bruce had assured him that he would begin the search while Thor rested. Bruce mentioned something about a Valkyrie. 

Steve woke up to messages from Sam and Bucky, promising that they were both safe. T’Challa made an announcement to the public upon being brought back but sent them all a message separately. Natasha woke up to a message from Clint, who had gone AWOL. His wife and children were back and safe. He’d be flying up soon to make sure everyone was okay. 

Strange was back with everyone else from Titan. He had taken Nebula and Peter Quill to search for Gamora. They didn’t know if she was back with the rest, but neither was willing to take the chance and not search. 

Everyone was back, everyone was safe and well. 

Except for Peter. 

The others had tagged along with Tony when he went to visit Peter for the first time. They hadn’t seen him yet either, too busy with regrouping with their life and the people in it. So when they finally had the time to visit the boy, they did. 

It wasn’t a happy visit though. 

They hadn’t been expecting him to be fine. They knew what the effects and costs of the power of the Stones were. They knew that Peter would get the worse end of it. He had a Stone in his chest, a host, not a wielder. They knew he wouldn’t be getting out of there without a hitch. 

But they hadn’t been expecting this. 

When they got to his room, they had to watch from behind a window. The room Peter was in had to be sterile, the doctors said. Peter was on his back, arm spread out, held down with light straps. He had wires hooked up to everything and tubes going into his mouth and nose. He looked pale and so very small. 

The worst of it was on his chest. 

It was bare. The Stone-- _that_ _damned Stone_ \--was still there but it wasn’t glowing. The skin around it was damaged beyond belief. It looked like burns but worse. Big, red, angry, they littered his chest and arms. Some of them traveled up to around his neck. It looked as though someone had cut up his skin, slathered it in cuts, then carved off the skin itself only to put it back on. It was grotesque. It looked beyond painful.

The worst of it  _ all,  _ the injuries, the situation, the everything, was the fact that Peter was in a coma. 

The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with him. They just knew that he was hurt and wasn’t about to wake up soon. The best they could do for now was keep him breathing, stable, and monitored. That was all they could do. 

Tony and the rest watched the heart monitor go up and down, up and down, up down. Tony hated the sound as much as he found it reassuring. He felt Pepper put on hand on his shoulder. He reached up and clasped it, thankful for the small support. 

No one spoke. There was nothing to say. 

Tony’s mind was racing. His fingers twitched. He couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t do anything but wait. He had never been comfortable with waiting. He had never been comfortable with not being able to fix things. But he had a new life to look after. He had to leave that mindset behind. He wouldn’t be able to fix everything. He wouldn’t be able to look after the world like he had tried, not when he would be having a kid. 

But for Peter? For Peter, he could play the mechanic for a little while longer. 

 

* * *

 

Tony got the news two days after waking up. 

Gamora was well and alive, having been brought with everyone else. 

Doctor Strange opened two portals after finding her. One to Earth and one to the planet Thanos was on.

Gamora and Nebula walked through the one to Thanos.

They came back with his head.

“He knew he lost,” Gamora promised. “He knew how disastrously he failed.” 

Tony watched Nebula clean off her blades, maroonish colored blood coming off the cloth she used. 

“Good,” he said.  

 

* * *

 

 

The Avengers held a press conference with Doctor Strange, the Guardians, T’Challa and the Dora Milaje. They told the world what they did, how they lost and how they won. They told them the Infinity Stones had “fallen asleep” but that they would be destroyed. They told the world that Doctor Strange would take them into another dimension to destroy. They didn’t tell them that the Stones were really being tucked away in a dimension only they, with the help of Strange, could get to. They didn’t mention that all but one were destroyed. 

But more importantly, the world knew that Spider-Man brought the gauntlet to the Avengers. The world knew Spider-Man had been the one to snap his fingers, to bring everyone back. The world knew that Spider-Man was out of commission, and would be for a while. The world knew Spider-Man was a hero. 

They didn’t know Peter Parker was too.

 

* * *

The first month Peter was in the hospital was probably the hardest.

The doctors were able to treat and wrap most of Peter’s burns. The ones on his arms, neck, and cheek were covered. They didn’t want to touch the Soul Stone, unaware of its abilities, unaware of what could happen to Peter if they did. Instead, they gave him a light shirt to wear to cover it up. It was more for the others than Peter. 

Early on, Tony, still in the wheelchair, found May. He explained to her everything. From the moment Peter entered the spaceship to the reverse snap, he told her exactly what her boy did. There were tears and yelling but in the end, May just wanted to see Peter. It had been more for the others than for Peter. Tony made sure she could visit Peter any time, no matter what the hospital said. 

Next informed were Peter’s friends, Ned and MJ. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Tony when he found out they knew of Peter’s superhero activities. They both demanded that they visit. Tony brought them the first time around but left the rest of the decisions up to their parents. Not that that would stop them, though. Tony soon found out that no one would stop them from seeing their friend. One time, when all three of them sat behind the glass window, Ned told Tony, “I don’t want him to be alone. He hates being alone.”

MJ piped in too. “Besides,” she said, pretending to read the book in her lap. Her eyes hadn’t moved in minutes nor had she turned the page. “We want to make sure the loser’s alright.”

Tony recognized the forced lightness, the snark, and front in the face of something devastating. He left it at that. 

After that though, Tony realized that they all began to fall into a routine. He spent the majority of his days with Pepper, who was beginning to show signs of her pregnancy. Morning sickness began to set in as well as first-trimester fatigue. He doted on her and complied to her every will. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, especially now.

While he spent the morning and night with Pepper, May was with Peter for full days at a time. She was always there at one point or another, even if it was just for an hour. Businesses, for the most part, were still shut down, waiting for the okay from higher-ups. But hospitals were still up and running (obviously). May, being a nurse, had to be at work from eight to five. She came during breaks and as soon as her shift ended. 

MJ and Ned came just as often. They came with books and drawing pads, music and stories. They spoke to Peter through the glass. Anything that could be said, was. 

The others, surprisingly, visited too. Carol came with her wife during the second week of the first month. She told her wife, Maria, that Peter was the one who ultimately brought them all back. “He’s the one to thank,” Carol told her. The two came back sporadically. Tony knew it would’ve made Peter’s day to see them visit. 

Steve came in during the same week Carol did. He only stayed for thirty minutes and didn’t look at Peter until the end. He spoke quietly to Peter through the glass. All in all, Steve was thanking Peter for bringing everyone back. He thanked him for bringing Bucky and Sam back. “I don’t know what I’d do without them,” he whispered. When he wasn’t in meeting with T’Challa and other representatives and officials, he’d spend an hour or two behind the window, drawing. 

Natasha was a surprising guest. Tony didn’t know how often she came but he knew she did it often. When he asked her about it, she shrugged and said, “I’m just looking out for a fellow spider.” There was something sincere in her voice. 

Peter was never alone. There was always someone behind the glass. 

Being there was difficult though. Guilt had always weighed on Tony’s shoulder but he would work to relieve it. Work and work and work, fix and fix and fix until it hurt a little less. Now, he couldn’t work. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t fix anything. All he could do was sit and wait. 

Waiting was  _ hell.  _

He was glad that Pepper needed so much attention. It kept him distracted. It was a good distraction. His fiancee and child were the best distraction. He found the swing between devastation with Peter and unbridled joy with Pepper a little dizzying though. 

Before they all knew it, the first month was coming to an end. Businesses were starting back up, but schools were still out. Peter was still asleep, still beyond the glass window. Someone was still always behind the window. 

Tony stopped praying decades ago but he would be lying if he said he didn’t look up to the sky at night and hope for someone to watch over Peter.

 

* * *

 

It had been nagging at Tony since he had met with Strange for the press conference. 

“Did you see this?” he finally asked one day. He and Strange were outside the window, both looking at Peter. Tony still remembered the devastating face on Strange when he had first seen Peter. “When you looked at all the possibilities, I mean. Did you see this?” 

Strange took a moment before responding. Tony didn’t mind it so much. “The future, time, is a complicated thing,” he replied, not taking his eyes off Peter. “When I looked forward, when I experienced every failure and our one victory, it was very different than this. So very different. I wasn’t able to predict the decision of one of the most powerful items in the entire universe; I didn’t even know it could make a decision. In the end, however, I prefer this outcome than the other.” 

“Why?” Tony tried not to let his angry bleed into his words. Why in the hell would anyone prefer  _ this _ ? 

Strange looked away from Peter, lowered his gaze. “In the world I saw, Peter didn’t come back. You found Thanos, killed him but the Stones were gone. The world continued to spin for five years.” Tony shuddered. “You had a child, people moved on, some didn’t. Rogers approached you with an idea after Scott Lang returned from the quantum realm. You discovered the secret to time travel. You all went back in time to get the Stones. Romanoff sacrificed herself for the Soul Stone. You all managed to collect all the Stones and bring everyone back. The past Thanos discovered what you were doing and attacked. You all came together and fought in one last battle. Thanos nearly won again but you grabbed the Stones from his gauntlet and put them into your own makeshift gauntlet. You snapped your fingers and erased Thanos and his army. You died from your injuries.” 

Tony had long turned his gaze to Strange. He stared, eyes burning. Natasha would’ve died. He would’ve died. He would’ve left behind Pepper and Morgan. They all would’ve spent  _ five years  _ in their lives before everyone would’ve been brought. 

Tony looked to Peter and violently hated himself for thinking he might prefer this outcome too. 

 

* * *

 

Thor had been searching for his people since he got the okay from the doctors. 

The Guardians had begun to search before he did. They searched for Asgardians and they searched for those who followed Thanos. They brought the Asgardians to safety and the others to death.

They came back to Earth to bring Thor along. 

They sent out messages to nearby planets, to other ships.

Many Asgardians had been found already.

Many followers had been found too.

Loki had been found too.

Thor made it clear that Loki would be staying with him. But he told them that he wouldn’t bring Loki to Earth unless they gave the okay.

 

* * *

 

The second month wasn’t easier but it didn’t feel as hopeless as the first month. 

Registration for school was beginning. Ned and MJ couldn’t be with Peter as often as they would have liked. They followed a schedule similar to May’s: come for lunch and afterward.

Pepper was beginning to show. The sight of her always brought a smile to Tony’s lips but now he’d beam. A few days into the second month, she joined him in visiting Peter. She often did but this was different. 

Tony was pretty much fully healed, no longer in the wheelchair. They walked in together, sat down together, and stayed in silence together. It was still hard to look at Peter. His burns and injuries still hadn’t healed. They stemmed from the Stone but the removal of it wasn’t an option. They didn’t know what it could do Peter. It was hard to even speak to him. He couldn’t hear them, not from beyond the glass, not from the depths of his coma. Tony liked to think Peter could sense that they were there. The idea certainly brought more comfort to Tony than to Peter. 

Pepper shifted in her seat, looking up from her lap to the window. “You know,” she said, breaking the jarring silence, “I want him to be there. At our wedding, I mean.” She gave a scoff like laugh as though she found her own thoughts ridiculous. “But I also want to get married soon. I don’t want to waste another moment but I also want him to be there. And who knows how long he’ll be like this.” 

Tony shared her exact sentiments. “I get it,” he told her. “I don’t want to waste a second… but I know I have all the patience in the world for him.” 

Pepper looked from the window to him. Tony looked from his lap to her. She stared him in the eyes and said, “I want to get married soon. What do you want to do?” 

Tony thought about it for a moment. He could say he wanted to wait. Pepper might agree or she might push. He could say he wanted to get married tonight and the guilty would weigh on him. Unless he could think of a compromise. 

Tony’s eyes glanced at Peter. He had an idea. 

“How ‘bout,” he started slowly, looking back to Pepper, “I get an officiant to wed us tomorrow? We could do it with just the three of us--” Pepper beamed at that, “--or it could be with Rhodey and Hap, or with everyone, or with hundreds of people.” 

“And what about Peter?” Pepper asked quietly. 

“I have an old photo of the two of us, that one for the internship. He’ll be right by us.” 

Pepper smiled brightly at him. “I like that,” she told him happily. “I just felt it appropriate to have him there. I know how much he means to you. To me, too.” 

“Getting attached, Ms. Potts?” he teased. It’s not like he could talk though. Tony knew that Peter had him wrapped around his little finger. 

Pepper leaned forward, giving him a chaste kiss. “That’s Mrs. Stark to you,” she whispered against his lips. 

For once, Tony didn’t hate the sound of his last name. Not when it was hers too. 

 

* * *

 

Anthony Edward Stark and Virginia “Pepper” Potts were married by an old college friend, at around nine in the morning, in front of the Avengers and friends. 

Morgan Harlow Stark or Morgan Derek Stark wasn’t born yet but they were there too, nestled, warm, growing and loved within Pepper. 

Peter Benjamin Parker wasn’t awake yet but he was there too, framed in a small goofy photo that sat folded in Tony’s breast pocket.

Tony swore he had never felt happier than when Pepper smashed his face into the small cake during the even smaller reception. The frosting was splattered all over his suit and her dress. She cackled the entire time and danced around in victory with everyone else laughing too. Tony vowed more than once that day that he would never stop loving her. 

 

* * *

The third month was busy.

Pepper was entering the second trimester. 

Schools were up and running. 

May’s hospital was bustling as always.

The rest of the universe needed help. 

Peter’s window was a little more vacant at times that month.

 

* * *

 

A week before the fourth month, MJ came alone to Peter’s window. 

She had a little ukulele in hand, music sheets in the others. Pages and pages of music sheets.

She pulled the sofa in the room to the window so she could look directly in. 

She played and sang and played and sang. 

She played until her fingers hurt, until her hands cramped, until her voice grew hoarse. 

Even then, she continued to play.

Because she swore on deities she didn’t believe in and on people she did that Peter was smiling when she played. 

 

* * *

The fourth month brought a sense of almost normalcy.

Having Peter in a coma wasn’t normal but the routine fell into place again.

By now, Peter’s burns had mostly healed but despite his healing factor, the scars lingered.

Pepper was glowing even when she got nauseous. 

One day, Tony accidentally walked in on MJ playing to Peter. He was going to leave. He wasn’t close with the curly-haired girl. He made an effort to get to know her a little because she was Peter’s friend. She was very intelligent, Tony knew that much. When he made a move to exit, she told him he could stay. “Just don’t talk,” she snapped, already repositioning her fingers on the right chords. “Peter hates it when people talk while he’s listening to music.” 

Tony nodded and sat, listening. MJ wasn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination. Tony made a mental note to help fund whatever music program Midtown High had. She never stopped playing, only really pausing when a song ended, but then she began another. One after the other, Tony lost track of how many songs she played. He busied himself with checking his emails. There was still a lot of damage to deal with since everyone had been brought back. 

MJ suddenly stopped singing in the middle of the song but continued playing. Tony looked up from his tablet. “Y’know,” she said quietly, “I can’t tell if I’m imagining it but I swear…” Her voice became a whisper Tony had to strain to hear, “I swear, he smiles when I play.” 

Tony’s eyes flicked to the ground then to Peter beyond the window. The doctors said that they all might soon be able to be in the same room with him. MJ continued to strum her ukulele. Tony took in the details of Peter’s face. It hadn’t so much as twitched since Tony had first seen him. But now, looking at him, listening to the steady strum of the instrument, Tony was inclined to agree with MJ. At its barest, it looked like a ghost of a smile, just a hint of one on Peter’s face. 

Tony didn’t allow himself to challenge what he saw. It wasn’t the trick of the lights, it wasn’t his own hopes or imagination. Peter was smiling. He knew they were there. 

Tony smiled too. 

 

* * *

 

Tony swore that no matter how long he lived, he would never forget the day Peter flat-lined. 

It was the second week of the fourth month. The doctors were beginning to set up another room for Peter, one they could all sit in with him. It would take another day or two.

For now, though, they just had to wait a little longer. 

Tony never wanted to hear the word “wait” again after all this. 

May and Thor were in the room when Tony got there. He was surprised to see them chatting, May chuckling pleasantly at whatever Thor had just said. 

“True story,” he finished, smiling. 

“Good lord,” May muttered after managing to catch her breath. She let out a few more giggles before noticing Tony. “Oh, hi, Tony.” 

“Out of all the people to get along with, May, I don’t blame you for getting cozy with a god,” Tony teased, taking a seat next to her. 

She punched his shoulder lightly. “Oh please,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “If I’m ‘cozy’ with anyone, it’s not going to be a god.” She winked jokingly at Thor.

Thor just grinned. 

“Then who’s it gonna be?” Tony asked, leaning against the armrest of his seat. A smirk tugged at his lips.

May shrugged, nonchalant. “Nat’s cute,” she said mildly.

Tony chuckled, feeling at ease. “Of course she is,” he agreed, “but she’d cut you.” He was only half joking.

“Even better,” May told him. 

“You would get along with many of my people’s warriors,” Thor commented. “Bruunhilde too.” 

“That’d be an interesting trip,” May said, eyebrows rising for a second. She sobered for a second, saying, “Peter would love to meet your people. Don’t tell him I told you, but he used to have a crush on you.”

Tony burst out laughing. “What?” he gasped through his laughs. “When?” 

“He was, what, ten? Probably ten when the Invasion of New York happened,” May explained. Tony took in a calming breath at the mention of the invasion. “He saw you all on TV and he was obsessed with all of you but he really liked you, Thor.” 

A nostalgic smile graced May’s face. “He dressed up as you for Halloween that year,” she chuckled, “hammer and all.” 

Tony and Thor both joined in with her laughter. “I think we still have the blonde wig he wore,” she snorted. 

Tony giggled, imaging a little baby Peter, posing in a ridiculous costume with a ridiculous wig and hammer. “I need pictures, May, all of the pictures,” he said, pointing at her. “I’ll get you Nat’s number if you give ‘em to me.” 

“I already have it, hun,” May boasted, smirking. “You can have ‘em free of charge.” 

They all gave one last chuckle before May dived into other Halloween stories. Tony tuned out to divert his focus to Peter. He watched the rise and fall of Peter’s chest, the up and down of his heart monitor. His eyes became transfixed on the machine. As long as that little green line kept going up and down, Tony would sleep well. He would sleep better if Peter was actually awake, but he’d take what he could get.

It was because he was so focused on the machine that he noticed the moment something changed. 

It was a small uptick in Peter’s heartbeat. It jumped as though Peter had been surprised by something. And then it sped up. Quickly. Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down. Something was happening. 

Tony stood abruptly, not taking his eyes off the heart monitor, and pressed the emergency pager near the door. 

“Tony?” May said, her voice suddenly very, very small. “What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know,” he told her honestly. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see both May and Thor standing up, staring through the glass window. 

Peter’s heartbeat continued to speed up. The doctor and nurses rushed into his room but they didn’t to anything but stand there for a moment. It was clear that they didn’t know what was happening either. Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from the monitor, even when the green line went up and down, up and down, and then suddenly straightened. 

Peter was flat-lining. 

May would’ve fallen to her knees if Tony hadn’t caught her. Sobs racked through her body, making her shake. “No, no, no,” she babbled, hand over her mouth. Tears poured down her face. 

It all happened in a blur.

The doctor and nurses moved into action. One had defibrillators in their hands. The light shirt was ripped open. Tony just barely heard the sound of the defibrillators charging up. 

“Charging 100. Clear!” 

Shock.

The Stone seemed to spark. 

“No pulse.”

“Charging 200. Clear!” 

Shock. 

Spark.

“No pulse.” 

“Charging--”

Peter’s heartbeat began. 

Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down. 

The Stone didn’t spark again. 

The doctor and nurses stood there in shock.

May shuddered, quiet. 

Thor must’ve sensed that Tony was about to go on a warpath because he moved to put a hand on May’s shoulder and nodded to Tony.  _ Go.  _

Tony passed May to Thor, burst out of the room and crossed the hall to the door to Peter’s room. He slammed the doors open. The doctor and nursed all startled and turned. “What the hell just happened?” he demanded. 

“We don’t know, sir,” a nurse responded quickly. The other nurses and doctor moved to begin a routine check up on Peter’s vitals. “The monitors we have for his brain waves showed that his thalamus began to fire; it immediately transferred to the amygdala, then of course to the hypothalamus. It was--” 

“A fear response,” Tony finished, eyes glued to Peter. “To what?” 

“It could’ve been a panic response as well. To what, we don’t know, sir,” the nurse said. “It could suggest a sense of consciousness, that a part of his mind is awake. However we would see more activity within his brain waves, and we just haven’t seen anything like that. At this point, we truly don’t know. Not what caused the reaction or what it means.” 

“Do you think it was harmful?” Tony turned to see May right beside him. Her expression was steeled, firm and strong. 

“We’re unsure, ma’am, we’ve never dealt with anything like this.” The nurse shook their head. “We’ll run tests and check everything we can but I’m don’t think we’ll find much.” 

“You better,” May said woodenly. She spun and walked out of the room, storming down the hall. Tony saw her walk out the back door to the outside.

He looked to the nurses and doctor but they were already working with Peter. He didn’t want to leave him for a second but May was clearly distressed. He was too. 

“Watch him for me, will ya?” he asked Thor quietly, not making eye contact. 

“Of course,” Thor said, nodding. 

Tony muttered thanks before rushing out the door to find May. He sped down the hall and pushed open the doors to outside. It only took him a second to see May sitting on the curb, head in her hands, shoulder shaking. 

Slowly, he came to stand beside her before sitting down. He didn’t say anything, let her take the time to cry. Lord knows Tony wanted to join her. He couldn’t though, not right now. 

“He’s all I have left,” May cried suddenly. “I can’t lose him, Tony. I don’t care if I have to march into the afterlife, I am not losing him.” 

“You’re not losing him, May,” Tony comforted, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

May took in a shuddering breath, another sob breaking out. “I didn’t want kids,” she told him, wiping her face. “Even with Ben, I didn’t want them. But then Peter came into our lives and it was like Dorothy entering Munchkinland.” May gave a weak chuckle. “Suddenly I was introduced to color and light. It wasn’t always easy but God, I don’t regret a single moment with him.” 

May sniffed, putting her hands in her lap and lifting her head to look up at the sky. It was late, probably somewhere around midnight. “When Ben was killed,” she continued, strained, “I didn’t know what to do. Peter didn’t know either but… if there’s one thing I regret, it’s letting him grow up too soon. He was never going to have it easy with Mary and Richard but it would’ve been easier than this life, I’m sure. He matured so quickly. He played adult while I was mourning. I don’t think he ever got the chance to truly mourn. I regret that too. He saw Ben die, after all.” May’s voice tapered off to a whisper. 

“Peter is all I have left,” she breathed. “When it was the three of us, we wouldn’t say it to Peter. He was too young to understand how hard his life was going to be. But now, we say it to each other all the time. It’s just the two of us. And I swear, honor bright, I’m not going to lose him.” 

Tony went to speak but paused. “Honor bright?” he repeated. It sounded distantly familiar, maybe something Peter had said or something his mother had said when he was much younger. 

May chuckled wetly. “It’s a thing between Peter and me,” she explained. “Ben too, when he was here. It’s a promise but stronger.” She shrugged, looking to the ground. “Ben started it. It stuck with us.” 

Tony sighed and squeezed May’s shoulder. “Then,” he began slowly, “I swear, honor bright, that your boy is going to be okay.” 

May breathed in and looked up to Tony. Her eyes searched his face, searched his very soul it felt like. Tony didn’t know what she found in it all but something lighter passed over her expression. “You can’t break an honor bright,” she told him. “It’s not allowed.” 

“I have no intentions of breaking this promise, May,” he said matter-of-factly. 

She searched for a second more before nodding. “Good,” she said, “you can’t slip out of co-parenting anyway.”

“Who said anything about co-parenting?” Tony said faintly. He hadn’t yet confronted those feelings, not entirely. 

“Please, Tony,” May chided, giving him a look. “I know how much you care about him. I get it. He’s got a way of worming himself into your heart.” 

Tony bit his lip, jiggling his leg up and down. “I’m not trying to replace anyone,” He began quietly. May quickly cut him off. 

“You aren’t,” she said. “Ben was Ben. He gave Peter what he could. You are you. You give Peter what you can. No one can replace Ben. Peter doesn’t look at you the way he looked at Ben. He didn’t look at Ben the way he looks at you.” 

Tony didn’t respond. He had come far with expressing his emotions over the years. Therapy was wonderful and more helpful than he could’ve ever imagined. But he hadn’t allowed himself to touch on these emotions. If he was being honest, he had been too scared. Those feelings were too raw, too close to his guarded heart. But now that Morgan was on the way, maybe it was time he opened that door. 

“It’s scary how much that kid means to me,” he admitted quietly. “But I guess I’m gonna have to get used to that. I’m not about to kick him, or you for that matter, out of my life. And with Morgan on the way, I might as well nurse my paternal side.” 

May chuckled. “Some practice may do you good,” she said. “Lord knows I had no idea what I was doing with Pete when I got him. I could’ve used some practice. I got some tips you can use.”

“No sugar past seven?” Tony guessed. 

“No sugar past five,” May corrected, eyebrows raised. “That shit lasts.”

Tony laughed. May laughed. The world around them didn’t feel lighter but perhaps it felt a little more secure. 

 

* * *

By the end of the fourth month, they were able to be in the same room as Peter.

May was the first to sit with Peter. She was alone that night, having just gotten there from her night shift.

It was quiet, the sound of Peter’s heart monitor reassuring in a way she hated. He was wearing a light shirt again, arms now tucked beside him. He was hooked up to wires and tubes but he looked almost peaceful.

She sat there, studying her boy. He was so young, just sixteen. He would be seventeen soon. Still, so young, so small. May thought that he would never really be sixteen, seventeen or any age in her mind. He would always be that little boy who knocked on her bedroom door, just barely five, to tell her he had a nightmare, big tears in his eyes, blanket clutched in his hand. He would always be that little boy who gave her the last spoonful of ice cream after she got fired from her old job. He would always be that little boy who, on Mother’s Day, gave her a card that told her how much he loved her even though she wasn’t his mom.  _ There isn’t an “Aunt’s Day” so I thought I’d give it to you today,  _ the card had explained. He would always be that little boy, entering Midtown High with nervousness and brilliance shining in his eyes. He would always be that little boy, crawling into her bed to cry with her after Ben died. He would always be that little boy, so bright and good. 

May watched her boy. And he was her’s. She had raised him into the person he was now.  _ Guess I did a pretty good job,  _ she thought to herself, thinking about all the people he’d helped. Her boy was greater than all the rest combined. 

Oh so tentatively, she grabbed his hand resting at his side. His hand was warm but the skin was dry. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, swearing to herself that she would memorize exactly how many small scars, lines, creases resided there. 

Her heart ached. She wanted to hear him laugh, see him smile. She wanted him to wake up, to hear him assure her that it would be okay because that was just the kind of person he was. He’d wake up and tell her that everything was okay, she knew that’s what he would do. He’d toss out a joke to make her chuckle when it was the last thing she thought she’d do. He’d hold her hand and tell her that he was okay. He’d promise her he’d never do anything like this again. 

Subconsciously, she squeezed his hand three times. One squeeze for each word.  _ I love you.  _

She didn’t think anything of it, hadn’t even realized she had done it. 

She continued to rub her thumb over his knuckles, thinking of every moment she had been proud of him, promising to tell him every moment when he woke up, when--

Three squeezes back. 

One for each word. 

_ I love you. _

May nearly jumped. 

She stared at Peter.

Had she imagined it? Had it just been a reflex? A twitch?

“Peter?” she dared to whisper. 

No response. No flutter of his eyelids. No three squeezes back. 

May laughed at herself. “I’m going insane,” she muttered. “Absolutely insane.”

She didn’t let go of Peter’s hand though. Not until she had to, not until she had to go home and rest. 

She bent down and kissed Peter’s forehead, tears forming. “I love you, Peter,” she told him softly. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

 

* * *

 

The fifth month was calm. 

The world had largely settled back into normalcy.

Pepper had more energy that month. She moved around more. She suggested they start looking for that lakehouse Tony talked about. 

Peter was twitchy that month. His fingers jumped and his shoulders would shake for a moment. His eyelids fluttered and his cheek would wince. His legs would jolt minutely. He let out small, almost silent grunts. The doctors didn’t think it was anything more than tension releasing itself in his limbs. Tony thought differently. The rest did too. 

“He’s always been an energetic kid,” Happy said when Tony told him about the movement. Pepper and Tony had just checked out a potential house. “I have no doubt that, even like this, he has more energy than he knows what to do with.” 

 

* * *

 

The twitching carried on into the sixth month. 

Tony took notes on it when he sat with Peter. He’d speak aloud, talking to Peter more or less. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls when you wake up, huh?” Tony would mutter. 

They had bought a lakehouse just a week ago. A small wooden cabin like place, big enough for three with room for guests. Pepper was now seven months into her pregnancy. They were having a girl, they now knew. A beautiful baby girl. 

“Morgan Harlow Stark,” Pepper said after they found out. 

“You’ve thought about this,” Tony chuckled, glancing at his wife as he drove home. (He loved saying that.  _ Home _ .) 

“Peter helped me,” she shrugged. 

“Wait, Peter knew before me?” Tony cried.

Pepper giggled. “I told him when we were making sandwiches for you, Bruce and Rocket,” she explained, placing a hand on her big belly. “I think he could sense it. With the Stone, I mean.”

“I feel so left out,” Tony teased, ignoring the mention of the Stone. 

Pepper smacked his arm lightly but smiled. 

“Get me home, Mr. Stark,” she said, “I’m hungry.”

“Of course, Mrs. Stark.”

 

* * *

They finished setting up their new home.

There was a room for Morgan, right next to their own room. It was colored white but Steve had promised to paint a mural on one of the walls. Tony knew an olive branch when he saw one and only had hesitated a second before grasping it, agreeing to the mural. 

There were two guest room downstairs, another one upstairs and four more in the basement. Natasha had vacated the room upstairs since they moved in, helping Pepper with pretty much everything. It reminded Tony of when Natasha was Natalie Rushman. He enjoyed the extra company. 

As Tony laid down to sleep next to his wife, he thought about the future he had in front of him. A wife, a child, a family. A house that was an actual home. Healing relationships. If someone had told him five years ago that this was what awaited him, he would have laughed. He would’ve called whoever told him crazy, would’ve asked if they were drunk or high. A reality like this hadn’t even been an idea five years ago. So much had changed. So much would continue to change. 

Before Tony fell asleep, he told himself that Peter would be apart of that reality too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Check out my tumblr: neon-air


	5. a new path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All things have an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter. wow. i never imagined that i would get this attached to the story. but alas, here we are. god, it's so bittersweet, like im happy to put out a complete story but i also dont want it to end! thank you to everyone who has joined me for this journey and has read my story! it means more than i could ever express. 
> 
> for those who are as upset as i am, heres some silver lining ;) i want to do one-shot stories that take place during the story and afterwards. basically missing scenes or after the ending of the main plot. i'll be adding them into a series, along with this story, so! be on the look out for those! you guys can send in requests for short stories, if you want! they won't be as long as this and i wont be able to update as quickly but they will be here! 
> 
> now, let the final chapter commence...

_“I don’t know.”_

Peter traced a pattern in the water behind him.

“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here,” Ben said. “Where are we in the first place?”

“It’s a pocket universe,” Peter explained. “We’re in the Soul Stone.”

“The Soul Stone? That’s the orange one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then _how_ did we get here? You never really answered my question.”

Peter thought about it for a moment. He knew why he was there but not Ben, at least not entirely. “I think I know why you’re here,” he began. “You’re a projection of your soul. I guess it’s kinda tied to me. There was a girl here before you. Her name’s Gamora. She was a projection of the last person who had the Soul Stone. A projection of her soul. I think that’s what you are.”

Ben considered it and nodded. He paused then looked to Peter. “Then how are you here?” Ben asked. “Are you a projection as well?”

“No,” Peter said. He didn’t say anything else.

Ben must’ve sensed something off. He shifted to give Peter a look. “Pete,” he said patiently, “how are you here? Did something happen?”

Peter didn’t reply for a second. He knew Ben wouldn’t let it go. “I’m here,” he started slowly, “because I… I did what I had to do.”

“And what’s that?” Ben’s voice was tense, strained.

Peter licked his lips, heart racing. “The Avengers and I had to fix something,” he whispered, “and in order to fix it, someone had to take the brunt of a lot of power.”

“So you did?” Ben’s voice was clipped, terse, angry. Ben had never yelled to express his anger, never had to with the way his voice rumbled when he was upset.

Peter took in a deep breath and finally met Ben’s eyes. “Yes,” he said simply.

There was a beat of silence, a second for Ben to take a breath before saying, “Out of all the people you told me about, superhumans, Iron Man, an alien, a _goddamned god,_ it was decided that you, _a fifteen-year-old human,_ would take the brunt of all the power?”

“I’m sixteen,” Peter tried weakly but Ben barreled on.

“They chose you to be, what? The sacrificial lamb? You’re a kid!”

“They didn’t choose--”

“Did they know what would happen to you? What, did they figure that you were a spare? That you could just be given up?”

“Uncle Ben--”

“Did you volunteer? Did you have any say in it? You know what? I don’t care if you did, we’re getting out of here so I can kick their asses--”

“Ben!”

The man stood abruptly, beginning to pace.

“Ben,” Peter repeated more quietly, “I took the brunt of it because I chose to.” He reached up and tapped the front of his suit. It dissolved away to reveal his under armor, a wetsuit-like piece of clothing. The Soul Stone had burnt a hole through the armor. Peter had expected as much. “This is the Soul Stone. It’s kept me alive since it settled with me. We both knew what we needed to do to fix everything. We both knew what could happen. We did it anyway.”

Ben stopped pacing and stared at him. Peter stood up but didn’t move. “I knew this could happen,” Peter continued, “but there was so much at risk. If I hadn’t done this, more people than you can imagine would be sacrificed. I had to do this.”

Ben was shaking his head. “Peter, you’re a kid,” he stressed. “You couldn’t have been expected to do whatever it was.”

“I wasn’t,” Peter said quickly. “It was my decision. I was told that I could die, that no one knew what could happen. It was a gamble. But it was my decision.” He tapped the suit again to cover his chest. “It was my gamble to take. I don’t regret it.”

“Was there a plan afterward?” Ben pushed. “A plan to get out?”

Peter sighed and shook his head. “There wasn’t ever a plan,” he said quietly. “There still isn’t a plan. I didn’t know I was going to wake up here.”

“There’s gotta be a way to send up back,” Ben insisted, growing frantic.

Peter just shrugged his shoulders. The Stone was asleep and he didn’t know if he could wake it up. He didn’t even know if something would happen if he tried. “Maybe,” he muttered, looking down.

“Have you given up?” Ben asked but his voice was free of judgment. It sounded disappointed if anything.

Peter hated the idea of saying yes. He hadn’t given up, he wanted to go back to May and Ned and Tony and MJ. He wanted to go back home. But he was tired. He felt like Altas finally being given a moment of rest. He wanted to sleep. Peter gave a humorless chuckle. “I’m tired, Ben,” he told him honestly, not looking up. “I’m so tired. I haven’t given up but… it’s a close thing.”

The admission tasted bitter.

Peter heard Ben walk closer. “Pete,” the man said heavily, “there’s a world out there that needs you. May needs you, Ned needs you. It sounds like Tony needs you too. There are so many people out there who need you. And you need them. It doesn’t seem like you’re exactly alone in all this, kiddo. You’ve done so much for the world, Pete; much more than I know. I don’t blame you for wanting to rest. But you can rest when you get back.” Ben cupped Peter’s face, encouraging him gently to look up. Peter did so with little resistance. “You have so many people waiting for you out there, Peter. They _need_ you; you need them. The world needs a person like you.”

Ben sighed, an almost mournful look crossing his face. “You can’t stay here, hun,” he whispered. “You have to go home.”

Peter turned his face into Ben’s palm as though he wanted to hide. Peter had always been a mature person, especially for his age. But there were moments when he truly felt his age when he felt like just a kid who was way in over his head. This was a moment like that.

But Peter had always been a fighter too. Not physically, not until Spider-Man, but in other senses. Losing his parents so young, he had been met with many obstacles already. Then school and his intelligence presented problems. Then bullies and the spider bite and losing Ben and what could’ve been the end of the world and dying. He had fought it all. He had been beaten down, forced to the ground and every time, he got back up.

Here he was, beaten down, forced to the ground, _tired._ All he had to do was get back up.

“I have a connection with the Stone,” he said quietly. “It’s asleep right now but I might be able to wake it up and talk with it.”

“Give it a shot,” Ben encouraged. “I’ll be right here.”

Peter nodded and then closed his eyes. He reached into the right corner of his mind. The connection didn’t respond when he approached it. He closed his eyes tighter, concentrating on nothing but the connection. The feeling of Ben’s hands on his face melted away. They were still there, Peter knew, but he couldn’t feel them anymore. He was too far into his mind, into the connection.

It resisted. It didn’t want to wake up. It was tired, like he was. It didn’t want to move, it didn’t want to talk to its host, it didn’t want to do anything. It wanted to rest for the next millennium and then rest some more.

Peter pushed. _Wake up,_ he prodded, _just for a second. Just long enough to send me back._

Peter felt the connection hum. The Stone wasn’t reaching back to him, it was acknowledging him. In his mind, he grabbed onto the connection and poured in his plead. He needed to go home.

The Stone hummed again but did nothing more. _Please,_ he begged, tightening his grip on the connection, _I need to go home. I don’t need your powers, I just need you to let me go home._

A part of the connection grew brighter, more aware. The Stone was listening.

_I’d still be your host,_ Peter explained, hope blooming in his chest. _I don’t need your powers but you could still stay connected with me. Just send me home._

The Stone’s awareness became groggy like it was falling asleep again. Peter panicked and held on firmly to the connection. However, the Stone sent out a calming response. It was waking up now, there was no need to panic, it told him.

Peter would’ve cried with joy if he hadn’t been so far into the connection.

The Stone pressed a question into the connection. Peter didn’t understand at first, the feeling of it sliding right over him. The Stone continued to ask though, right up until Peter understood.

_What will you give me in return?_

Peter paused, grip loosening. He didn’t know what it meant. And he was about to think on it, to wonder and question, when it clicked.

The Stone had always required sacrifice. Gamora, the trillions Thanos took, Peter. All sacrifices, for better or for worse. The projection of Gamora had said that the Stone had been alive once. But Peter had no doubt that one could only go so long before losing themselves in power, gain, and loss. Peter had no doubt that the Stone had been the Stone longer than it had been actually alive.

_I’ll still be your host,_ he tried. He couldn’t think of anything else. There were no other souls in the Stone besides Peter and Ben. Surely he would be the sacrifice again. He would bare the Stone for the rest of his life. That seemed fair, he supposed. If that was the price he had to pay for going home, then so be it.

The Stone’s response felt as firm as it felt lazy.

_No,_ the connection glowed.

_Then what’s the sacrifice?_ Peter cried, frustrated and tired and confused. It was just him and Ben, there was no one else. If the Stone didn’t want Peter, then who--

The second Peter realized what the Stone wanted, he ripped away from the connection, violently breaking it off. The Stone flared angrily in his chest, burning all the way to his fingertips. His eyes stung and his head was throbbing painfully. He stumbled back from the sudden force of it all, letting out a small cry. He brought his hands to his head, clutching it as he bit down groans of pain.

“Peter?!”

Ben steadied Peter, hands on his shoulders. “Peter, what’s going on? What happened?” he asked hurriedly.

Peter shook his head, feeling sick. “It wants you,” he choked out, gasping. “It wants a sacrifice and it wants that sacrifice to be you.”

“What… What do you mean?”

Peter sucked in a breath, desperately trying to calm down. He wouldn’t be doing either of them any good by panicking. “In order for someone to gain the Soul Stone, it requires a sacrifice,” Peter began to explain weakly. “When I got the Stone that was because it gave itself up. It was filled with souls, it was more attached to it’s humane side. But now, we’re the only ones here. I want to go home and it wants something in return for letting me go.”

“And I’m the only one here with you,” Ben finished solemnly.

“There’s gotta be another way,” Peter reasoned frantically. “There has to be.”

“Do you know what would happen to me?” Ben asked softly.

Peter gulped and, while taking in a deep breath, said, “You’d probably be pulled into the darkness. You’d fall asleep pretty much.” His eyes found Ben’s.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Ben said, trying for a smile.

“You’d be stuck here,” Peter told him, stomach twisting.

“Peter, not to be harsh, but I’m already dead.” Peter flinched anyway. “You need to go home. I’ll do it.”

Peter leaned against Ben, resting his forehead against Ben’s chest. Peter listened and memorized every beat of his heart. “I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, reaching up to hug Ben. He knew that Ben wouldn’t move on this. They were similar in their stubbornness. “I love you, Uncle Ben.”

Ben followed his lead, holding Peter closer. “It’s not your fault,” Ben assured him. “God, I’m so proud of you, Peter. So proud. You’re already so much greater than I could’ve ever imagined. You’re just amazing, Pete. Whatever you do next, it’ll change the world. You’re gonna blow them all away, Pete.”

Peter reached for the connection. It glowed, searching his mind. It knew that they had come to an agreement. 

“I love you so much, Peter. I couldn’t be prouder of you. And when you get back, you tell May that I love her too. I love you guys so much. Both of you were my world; still are. I love you both more than anything else.”

The Stone understood. The Stone agreed. The Stone reached through the connection.

Peter felt the Stone breathe with him. The connection slid into place and two became One. It felt familiar and safe. In the connection, Peter wondered if he would ever get to feel this connection again.

As they became One, they reached beyond their connection, to the world around them. Ben was still murmuring to Peter, unaware of the change. They grasped Ben’s soul, gently, respectively, tenderly. Though they were One, Peter independently moved. He held Ben tighter and tighter, feeling his and Ben’s souls begin to shift. He was going home and Ben was staying here. He had let go of Ben a while ago but that old wound had been broken open again. Seeing Ben alive (in a sense) again had opened it. Having to say goodbye was like cutting a new wound right over the old.

But his wound had healed once and it would heal again. And this time, he knew that he had said what he wanted to say to Ben the first time around. Ben would be at rest. Peter would have far more support than he did last time. Ben would be alright. Peter would be alright.

Together, Peter and the Stone breathed and their vision filled with light and it was all they could see, just light, light, light, light--

 

* * *

  

And then everything was dark.

Pure darkness.

It was familiar.

It was scary.

Peter couldn’t think again.

He could feel though

Everything was cool and thick.

It felt like water.

His body was water.

He was heavy but you could pass your hand right through him.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

He couldn’t think but he could feel and he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

If he wasn’t supposed to be here, then where was he supposed to be?

There was something warm settled in his chest.

It was familiar.

It was not scary.

It was safety, warmth.

It was… speaking.

Quietly.

Softly.

It whispered to him.

He couldn’t understand it.

He was sure he knew the language but it didn’t make sense to him.

He trusted it though.

It spoke to him in his head even though he could not think.

It knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He agreed.

It said something to him, a warping of words that meant nothing to him.

Though he couldn’t understand, his body still responded to the words.

The words meant safety.

It was not the same safety the warmth in his chest provoked.

It was better.

It bloomed within his entire body.

It sat in his nonexistent bones.

He loved the feeling.

He could go to that feeling, something in him realized.

He could go back to that feeling.

Why had he ever left that feeling?

He wanted to go back to that feeling.

Now.

And if not now, then soon.

The warmth in his chest brightened.

The warmth in his chest spread.

He thought he was already asleep but then the warmth began to soothe him.

He had no eyes, could not see but somehow the darkness was no longer just the environment around him but a voluntary submergence.

If he had eyes and did not know it, he still knew he had closed them.  

The warmth continued to soothe him.

It was comforting.

It was reassuring. 

It was safety.

He would be okay.

He could rest now.

Peter breathed and did not think about the fact that he now had lungs.

He did not think about his body becoming more than water.

He did not think about how the darkness was beginning to brighten.

He did not think at all.

Peter breathed.

 

* * *

The first thing Peter noticed was that his throat was dry.

It was so dry it hurt.

His face hurt too. In fact, his entire body hurt. It felt like he had been hit with a blazing wrecking ball about twenty times over. But there was a dullness to the pain. It didn’t make him feel good, but it wasn’t overwhelming in the way he somehow knew it could be.

He shifted his head, eyes closed. A small groan escaped his lips. Whatever he was lying on wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. He’d rather be at home, in his own bed with some music playing--

Why wasn’t he home? He knew he wasn’t. The bed beneath him was too stiff and the covers were itchy. His bed at home was soft, long worn from years of rest. The covers at home were warm and beaten to be permanently fluffy from fabric softener.

But why wasn’t he home? What happened?

“You talkin’, Pete?”

_May._

“Tony said that you’ve been doing that lately. I’m oh so wounded that I haven’t witnessed it until now,” she laughed. He heard the sound of a page being turned. “Whatcha talking about? You dreaming about something?”

Peter forced himself to open his eyes. He immediately had to shut them again. The room he was in was so bright. It hurt his eyes. But he wanted to see May. He could take a little more pain.

He opened his eyes again, squinting against the light. “Hope it’s something nice,” May finished.

Peter didn’t know how long he had been asleep. In the Soul Stone, time worked differently. When he first found himself there, a few minutes was nearly a whole month in the real world. Peter hadn’t counted the minutes he had been in the Soul Stone but he knew it was longer than last time. But when he opened his eyes, he thought May hadn’t changed at all.

There seemed to be a few more gray hairs on her head but other than that, she looked just as she always had. Peter wouldn’t be able to tell anyone when she had become synonymous with safety and the pure feeling of home, but that’s all he focused on now. May was here, she was safe so he must be too.  

May didn’t seem to notice the uptick in his heart monitor. She didn’t look too engrossed in her book though. Maybe she was just lost in her head. She turned the page again. “You’ll have to tell me what you’re dreaming about when you wake up,” she said lightly. Peter could hear the underlying tension, the underlying hurt.

He didn’t want her to be hurt; he hated it when she was.

“M’y,” he croaked. It sounded like another groan to him but May seemed to pick up on the difference in a heartbeat.

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing from the book to Peter. He didn’t know if she could tell that his eyes were open. “Peter?” she said quietly, timidly. It was apprehensive and nervous.

He shifted, wanting to reach out. His arms felt like lead though. He only managed to tap his finger. “M’y,” he said again, voice raspy.

“Peter?” There was a new urgency in May’s voice. “Baby, are you with me?”

Peter coughed, hoping to clear throat at least a little. “M’ere,” he assured.

“Peter,” she repeated, throwing down the book and rushing to his side, standing up from her seat. “Hey, Peter, I’m here, it’s okay; I’m here.”

She bent over him, clasping his hand tightly in hers. “I’m here, baby, I’m here,” she murmured, using her free hand to brush his hair away from his forehead.

He opened his eyes wider as they adjusted to the lights. He cleared his throat, looking up at May. There were tears in her eyes. He didn’t like that. He tried for a smile. It felt odd, tender as though he had hurt the skin there, but it seemed to work because May smiled back. There were still tears pooling in her eyes. “Hey, May,” he managed to say clearly.

She scoffed a laugh, tears falling onto her glasses. “Hey, baby,” she whispered, bringing her hand down to hold his face, thumb sweeping over his cheek.

“I’m okay,” he told her. He hated seeing her like this.

She laughed again, lip wobbling. “Yes,” she said firmly like she believed every word that came out of her mouth, “yes, you are, babe.”

Peter could see her resolve crumble, the moment she decided to throw caution to the wind. She knelt on the bed and enveloped him in the biggest hug he had ever received. May sobbed into his shoulder, holding him gently. “You’re okay,” she repeated, seeming to savor the words. “You’re okay.”

Peter was able to bring his arms up around her. It hurt but he pushed it aside. “I’m okay, May,” he muttered. “Honor bright.”

May tightened her hold on him. She was completely aware of his pain though, never holding him to the point where it was painful. Peter wondered how badly he was injured. He wondered what had happened. His head was blurry, foggy.

May pulled back briefly, only moving away enough to grab the glass of water at his bedside. She gave it to him, keeping a light hold on the glass as he gulped it down. She pulled it away even though he wanted more. She returned the cup and her position with Peter.

As he continued to hug May, he tried to think back to what he remembered last. There was a field and heat. There had been a lot of heat, heat everywhere but especially in his chest and--

It all came rushing back to him. The Soul Stone, the gauntlet, Thanos, going home, the plan, Tony, Pepper, snapping his fingers, darkness--

He pulled back, trying his best to sit up. “May,” he said urgently. “May, did it work?”

She pulled back too, a confused expression forming on her face. “What?” she asked gently, wiping her tears away with shaking hands.

“Did it work?” he repeated, feeling and hearing his heartbeat pick up. “The-The plan, did it work? Is everyone back? What happened?”

“Slow down,” she soothed, helping him sit up. She kept a hand on his arm as she pressed a button to make his bed rise vertically. It then occurred to him that he must be in a hospital. “It’s okay, Peter. It worked. Everyone is back, it’s okay.”

He trusted her word implicitly.

It had worked. They had fixed it.

_They won._

Relief crashed down upon him in waves. It surged in his entire body and hummed in his veins. He smiled brightly, eyes stinging with tears. It had worked, they had won, everyone was back. He closed his eyes, tears falling, leaning back. “It worked,” he gasped. “Thank God, thank God, _thank God._ ”

When he opened his eyes, May was smiling too, eyes still watery. “You did it,” she said proudly, squeezing his hand.

He squeezed her hand back. “We did it,” he said, sucking in a deep breath. “We did it.”

“You’re still grounded for the rest of your life,” she told him. He had a feeling she was only half joking. “You’re never allowed to do that again, you hear me?”

Peter chuckled, nodding. “Loud and clear,” he replied. He didn’t bother asking what part of what he had done she was referring to. He assumed she meant all of it.

He looked to the clock on the wall. Fifteen past eight at night. May must’ve gotten off from her shift not too long ago. “Where are we?” he asked, looking back to her.

“Special hospital,” she answered, “SHIELD run. Kinda. Apparently, Director Fury had it up and running when SHIELD crashed. You’re safe here.”

He nodded. “Where’s everyone else?” he questioned further. “Are they okay? What happened to them?”

“They’re all okay,” she assured him, nodding along with her words. “They’ve healed and are perfectly fine.”

He noticed the tightness in her eyes. It was tense and perhaps still a little sad. He was missing something here. He sniffed, swallowing then coughing a bit. He thought on it for a moment, squeezing May’s hand nervously. “May,” he started, “how long have I been out?” He almost didn’t want to know the answer.

She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, looking down at the action. “About sixth months,” she whispered.

His eyes flicked from her to the covers in front of him. He forcibly exhaled, mind buzzing. He had been asleep for six months. _Six months._ He had left May, Tony, Ned, MJ, Pepper for six months. He closed his mouth, clenching his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.

May looked up quickly, already shaking her head. “No, baby. This isn’t your fault,” she insisted. “I know you wouldn’t have left us if you had the choice.” Peter shook his head too. He wouldn’t have left her like this in a million years if he had a say. “It’s not your fault, hun.”

He didn’t have it in him to contradict her. He wouldn’t have believed himself anyway.

“Where are the others?” he asked instead. “What’re they doing?”

He didn’t give May enough time to answer before he remembered, rushing to add, “How’s Pepper? She must be, what, seven months in, right?”

May shook her head minutely, an amused smile gracing her lips. “Did she tell you before all this?” she asked.

“Yeah, she was a month in,” he told her. “How is she? How’s Morgan?”

May chuckled softly. “They’re both doing great,” she responded. “Pepper is in perfect health. Morgan’s developing just as she should be.”

Peter smiled. “Morgan Harlow Stark,” he recited from months ago.

“Christ, how much did Pepper tell you?” May wondered, smirking.   
  
“Just about everything,” he admitted sheepishly. “She was venting a bit. I didn’t mind it.”

May just smiled, reaching up again to brush his hair back. Her hand briefly grazed his right cheek, closer to his jaw. Her expression tensed. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

May shook her head, gulping. “You’re so brave, baby,” she told him. “So brave. I’m so proud of you.” She wasn’t looking at him, just stared at his cheek.

He raised his right hand to meet hers and stopped. It was covered in burns and scars. He stared at it for a moment. Slowly, he brought his free hand to meet hers. She pulled hers away to let him feel his cheek. It was rough and bumpy. It was warm too, more so than the rest of his face. It felt tingly from May’s hand. It took him a minute to realize what they were. Burns; burn _scars_ to be more specific. “Be honest,” he said, looking back to May, keeping his hand on his cheek, “how bad are they?”

May rolled her eyes, bemused. “You’re absolutely handsome,” she told him. “Scars aren’t about to change that.”

He only sighed. He brought his hand down from his cheek, dragging it down his neck. There were scars there too. His hand stopped at the collar of his shirt. He touched the front of his shirt, knowing what was there, just wanting to make sure.

The Stone was still there. It was still asleep. Suddenly, he remembered what Ben had asked him to say to May.

“Ben says hi,” he told her abruptly, turning to her.

Her expression fell, shocked. “What?” she breathed.

“Ben,” he repeated throat tightening. “He was there. He told me to tell you that he loves you. Loves both of us. _Both of you are my world,_ that’s what he said.”

“He was there?” she whispered after a moment, tears glistening in her eyes. “You weren’t alone?”

“Not for one second,” he said. “He’s still here technically. He’s asleep with the Stone.”

May let out a gasp, struggling to keep in her sobs. She pressed a hand to her mouth. Peter squeezed her free hand. “He loves us both,” he said quietly.

“So much,” she agreed, smiling through the tears. She straightened and pulled Peter into another hug.

Peter suddenly recognized what that unnamed feeling he had felt in the Stone had been. Home, it had been the feeling of being right at home.

 

* * *

Over the next day, May filled him in on what he had missed.

Everyone had returned safely. Schools had been going for four months. Ned and MJ were fine, just missing him. The Avengers had regrouped after leaving the hospital, spending most of their time in the compound. At the moment, they were all preparing for Pepper’s baby shower in a week from that day.  

Peter wanted to leave right then. He wanted to see everyone, to see Tony and Pepper. He wanted to be with them all and see what he had done. For now, though he had to sit and wait.

The doctors ran numerous tests but were astounded to see that Peter had made a quick recovery. His legs and arms had begun to experience muscular atrophy but thanks to his healing factor, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been. He would still need physical therapy to help recover. That and the burns seemed to be the worst of it. The burns were going to be permanent. They might dilute in size but it wasn’t likely they’d go away any time soon.

The bright side to it all was the fact that he got to see Ned and MJ again. May wanted to surprise the Avengers the day of Pepper’s baby shower with his awakening but she had no qualms with letting Ned and MJ in.

They had come after school unannounced. They were talking to each other when they walked in, so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t noticed Peter, sitting up and awake, eating some not so bad hospital food.

He paused when they came in but immediately brightened. May had stepped out to get a snack from the cafeteria. “I’m telling you, MJ, it’s not--” Ned began to insist before stopping completely. He was staring at Peter. MJ too.

He swallowed his bite of food. “Aw, c’mon,” he tried, taking in the sight of his best friends, “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

“Pete?” Ned whispered, hands beginning to shake.

“Hey guys,” Peter said, putting his plate on his bedside table. “I’m a little late, huh?”

Peter barely got a chance to even blink before both Ned and MJ were barreling into him, hugging the living daylights out of him. “I’m so happy you’re okay! God, you’re okay!” Ned exclaimed at the same time MJ told him, “If you ever do anything like that ever again, I’m gonna come after you and beat the shit out of you, you hear me, Parker?”

Peter bit down a groan but returned the hug wholeheartedly. He didn’t have to say anything about being careful before they pulled back to give him some space. They sat perched at his sides. “When did you wake up?” Ned asked quickly.

“Just yesterday,” Peter responded, leaning back against the raised bed.

“How are you still awake?” MJ questioned. “Shouldn’t the doctors be running a bunch of tests?”

“They did,” Peter told her. “I’m gonna have to do some physical therapy ‘cause of some muscular atrophy in my arms and legs. The burns are permanent but they’re healed. My healing factor has largely healed most of everything. It’s gonna take a while to recover completely but I’m good for the most part. They’re keeping me here just to make sure. I should be home within a week and a little bit.”

“Shit,” MJ muttered.

Peter chuckled and nodded. “What about the Stone?” Ned asked tentatively after a moment of hesitation. “We saw on the news; the Avengers said that they were all destroyed but Tony said that the Stone was still… with you.”

Peter snuck a look towards the door. He hadn’t shown May the Stone. He knew it would just upset her. But with Ned and MJ, it was curiosity. They wanted to know what happened.

Peter hooked a finger on the collar of his shirt and tugged it down, keeping his eyes on the door for a second more. The Stone sat in the center of his chest, surrounded by burns. It was still a distinctive golden but it didn’t glow as it had. Idly, he brushed the connection, feeling comforted by its presence.

Ned and MJ stared, something akin to amazement and horror on their faces. “It doesn’t hurt,” he promised them. “It’s asleep.”

Ned just looked concerned. MJ shook her head and said, exasperated, “Christ, your life is so fucking weird.”

Peter smiled widely. Yes, yes it was. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything, not when it brought him people like them into his life.

 

* * *

Peter didn’t know how May had managed to keep his status a secret. Somehow, she did though and as the day of Pepper’s baby shower came along, no one but she, MJ, Ned, and the doctors knew.

The doctors were reluctant to let Peter go, even if just for the afternoon. Still, they gave him some medicine to wean off the pain and a wheelchair to use before a better, more daily-life-friendly one was bought. May was already looking for one with the help of one of her co-workers.

They were given a van to help make transportation easier. It was just him and May that day, heading to Tony and Pepper’s new lake house. It was a beautiful day really. Bright and sunny, warm with a small breeze. It was a perfect day for the occasion. “It’s a lovely little place,” May commented when they were about ten minutes away. “You’ll love it.”

Peter hummed and stared out the window, playing with the cuff of his shirt. He was dressed in his own clothing, paired with a hoodie that felt like a security blanket. He was glad for the little normalcy. They were far into a little forest. Peter never thought Tony would settle in a place like this. Oddly, it suited him in a way.

“Now, I told Tony that I would be here in about five minutes from now,” she told him when they parked in the driveway. “We’ll just sca-dat on in.”

“Sca-dat?” Peter repeated, smiling. He was excited to see everyone again, to see Tony and Pepper. But if he was being honest, he was nervous too. Who knows how they would all react? Would it be too overwhelming for Tony? For any of them?

“Yes, sca-dat,” May said indignantly. She turned around, still in the driver’s seat. Peter was in the wheelchair in the back. She sobered for a second and asked, “Are you okay? Doing this?”

Peter took in a deep breath, reaching for the connection. It had become his crutch in a sense. It was asleep but it was always there. He wasn’t alone. It was comforting and familiar. He nodded, looking to May. “Nervous,” he said honestly, “but okay.”

May studied him, taking in every feature she could see. Finally, she nodded too and concluded, “Okay.”

She got out of the car and opened the backdoors. She grabbed the gift for Pepper before hitting a button on the inside of the car. A ramp protruded from the car and Peter was pulled out. He grabbed the gift and put it in his lap. Peter didn’t quite like the feeling of being pushed around when he knew he was fully capable but he didn’t say anything. He knew it made May feel better, knowing that he was right there.

They moved into the house quietly. It was lively and small but it was nice. Peter felt something almost fond for the small cabin.

“Baaaabe!”

Peter perked up, back straightening.

Tony.

“Pleeease!” the man whined. “Why can’t I see you right now?”

“It’s bad luck, Tony!” Pepper called from somewhere in the house.

“That’s for weddings!”

“And baby showers; that’s what I was taught.”

“Boooo! I wanna see you!”

“Just wait!”

May chuckled. “I’m gonna go grab him, okay?” she said quietly, leaning down to speak into his ear. “I’ll be right back.” She squeezed his shoulder before moving farther into the house.

Peter wheeled himself around the living room. He picked up a photo of Pepper and Tony on their wedding day. He felt saddened that he missed it but also glad that they had finally tied the knot. He put the photo down and continued to wander. It was homey and soft. Tony and Pepper deserved a life like this. Morgan deserved a life like this too. He was glad he got to be a part of it all.

“May, this is a day for Pepper, I don’t want any surprises,” he heard Tony say. His voice got louder as he got closer to the living room.

Peter turned himself around to face the doorway May had walked through. “This surprise is for everyone,” May told Tony.

Peter’s heart thumped, beating erratically. He had wondered if this would be too overwhelming for Tony but now he was wondering if this would be too overwhelming for _him._ But it was just Tony. He had no reason to be so nervous. He would be okay, it would all be okay.

Peter grasped at the connection tightly, focusing on its warmth.

“May, I love you, I really do, but I don’t want anything. It’s Pepper and Morgan’s day, we’re celebrating my girls,” Tony insisted, not really sounding upset in the slightest.

“Just trust me, Tony,” May mused.

“I do!” Tony cried. “I’m just saying--”

From the doorway, out walked Tony Stark.

Peter stared at the man, taking in every gray hair, every gesture of his hand, every time his crows' feet came out. Tony looked good, healthy, happy. Peter liked it that way.

Tony hadn’t noticed Peter yet. It took him a moment. He was still trying to convince May that he didn’t want a present when he must’ve noticed something from the corner of his eye. He sighed in a dramatically exasperated fashion before turning and--

Everything stopped.

Tony stared at Peter. Peter stared at Tony. Involuntarily, a smile pulled at Peter’s lips. “Hey, Mr. Stark,” he quipped, turning completely to face the man.

Tony was frozen. May kept a hand on his shoulder, maybe to keep him from falling over if the sway in his stance meant anything. “Peter?” he breathed out.

“I wasn’t aware that I’d be a part of the gift exchange today,” he joked best he could, giving a pretend glare at May.

She chuckled. She nudged Tony and said quietly, kindly, to him, “I told you to trust me.”

That seemed to be what Tony needed. He rushed forward, slowing when he was in front of Peter and pulled him into a hug, May’s present crinkling between them.

It was very similar to the one they had shared when Peter had first returned from the Stone. A hand on the back of his head, one around his shoulders. It was a bit awkward while in the wheelchair but neither cared. Peter brought his arms around Tony and closed his eyes. It was all okay. They’d all be okay. They had won. The Stone was asleep. Peter was awake and healing. Tony and the rest were safe.

It was okay.

“Thank God,” Peter heard Tony mutter. “Thank God.”

“I’m okay, Tony,” he promised.

“I know, Pete. I know. You’re okay.”

They stayed there in silence. Peter heard and felt Tony take in a shuddering breath. “Pepper!” he called, loud enough for her to hear but low enough to not hurt Peter’s sensitive hearing. He appreciated the caution. “Come here!”

“Tony, I told you; it’s bad luck!”

“This is important! I swear. Come here.”

Peter heard the sound of Pepper’s footsteps. Part of his was surprised that there was no sound of the click-clack of high heels, but Pepper was pregnant. Of course, she wouldn’t be wearing high heels.

Tony pulled away, moving to Peter’s side. He kept an arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter heard Pepper sigh, exasperated, before seeing her turn the corner, in the middle of saying, “Tony, this better be--”

She cut herself off when she saw Peter.

Peter beamed. She looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a flowy blue sundress. “You’re glowing,” he told her.

“You’re awake,” she exclaimed, rushing towards him. Tony moved to help steady her. She hugged Peter best she could, the mix of her belly and the wheelchair making it a bit difficult. Peter didn’t care at all. “Oh, Peter.”

“Just in time too,” he said as they pulled back. “I wasn’t about to miss out on meeting Morgan.”

Pepper chuckled wetly, holding his face in her hands. He felt her eyes on the burns. “Of course not,” she said. Concern spotted her face when she asked, “When did you wake up?”

She and Tony sat down in nearby chairs as Peter explained. “About a week ago,” he told them as May moved to his side.

“Why weren’t we notified?” Tony demanded, looking sharply to May.

“I wanted to surprise you guys,” May replied. “The doctors had to run tests, Peter had to get heal a little bit before he could be released. It was busy.”

“Christ,” Tony muttered, an incredulous expression falling on his face.

“I’m fine now,” Peter assured. “I’m here, I’m healing. I’ll be just fine, Tony.”

“Can we help with anything?” Tony asked sincerely.

“We’re working out details for insurance and all that,” May said mildly. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“You better,” Tony pouted. Peter chuckled at the expression.

“Pepper?”

They all turned to face the voice. Carol Danvers walked out the doorway. “Everything is set up, we just need the guest of honor,” she said, eyes searching for Pepper. She paused when she saw Peter. “Or _guests_ of honor,” she added quietly.

“Hey, Captain,” Peter greeted, smiling.

Carol smiled back, taking a few steps forward. “We weren’t expecting to see you, kid,” she told him. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he said honestly. “A bit sore all over but nothing that won’t heal.”

Carol appeared happy with the news. “Good,” she repeated, nodding. “Shall we move outside?”

“Everyone’s here,” Tony told Peter gently. “You gonna be okay with all that?”

Peter nodded, breathing in deeply. It would be a bit overwhelming, he knew that but May and Tony would be right by him the entire time. It would be all fine. “Yeah, c’mon, I’ll be fine,” Peter insisted, bouncing a little in his wheelchair. “I wanna met everyone without having to worry about saving the world this time.”

Peter saw all four of the adults in the room smile. “Then let’s go,” Pepper said.

Peter began to wheel himself towards the doorway as Pepper and Tony stood up, following. May walked alongside him while Carol led them all outside. Peter looked over the backyard, a spacious area with a big tree close to the shore of the lake. There were tables set up with presents and food on it. There were porch chairs set in a circle in the shade, balloons tied to a few of them.

Peter took note of everyone there. He knew most of them. Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Rhodey, Thor, Nebula, Happy. He recognized Gamora immediately. There were a few he didn’t know. There was a man with a woman and three children. There was a woman who brightened at the sight of Carol and a shorter, younger woman at her side. There was a man with a gap in his front teeth when he smiled, standing next to Steve. There was a man with a metal hand (was it his whole arm?) next to Natasha.

“Important people coming through!” Carol called happily as they descended from the back porch to the ground.

Everyone turned to them, all smiling to a certain degree. Pepper went to sit down in the head chair, the one with many, many balloons tied to it. Peter wheeled himself to the table to put May’s present down. “And for those who don’t know,” Carol continued as she helped Pepper sit, “this is Peter. He’s the one who saved our asses.”

Peter snorted. He clenched his left hand, digging his fingernails into his palm. “Hi,” he greeted lightly.

It was unnerving to have a bunch of people, most of the superheroes, staring at you. Peter had never been the best at reading people but he could see the gratitude in their eyes. It made him want to shrink back.

The man sitting next to the woman and three children stood up and walked over to Peter. “Pleasure to meet you, Pete,” he said, holding out his left hand. It was a purposeful decision. “Clint. I owe you.”

Peter blinked at the bluntness but shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too,” he said, flashing a smile.

The tension dissipated after that. May squeezed his shoulder as those who didn’t know him came up to greet him. The woman with Clint was named Laura and her children’s names were Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel. The men standing next to Steve and Natasha were Sam and Bucky. Peter briefly remembered fighting them at the airport. They seemed to remember as well but it appeared to be water under the bridge.

The women with Carol came up to him, introducing themselves as Maria and Monica Rambeau. “Told you you’d be here to meet them,” Carol said from behind him, grabbing a cup of water from one of the tables.

“Just took a little while,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” Maria assured him. “Carol here took six years before she got back to us. I’m used to waiting.”

“I apologized for that!” Carol exclaimed, bumping her hip into Maria’s when she passed, making Maria chuckle.

Everyone was kind and welcoming. They all shook his left hand even if it wasn’t their dominant hand. They all thanked him for his sacrifice, for his struggle. Even Nebula approached him and muttered, “If not for you, I would have lost those I care about. I thank you.”

After this, he never wanted to hear the words ‘thank you’ ever again.

Finally, they all sat down in a circle and began the baby shower. They all ate and chatted before Pepper began to open the presents. Peter smiled knowingly at May when Pepper opened her present. It was a purple, knitted blanket. Peter had a green one when he was a kid.

An hour later, all the presents were opened and most of the food had been eaten. Peter stayed close to May, Tony, and Pepper. The others nice and all but he wasn’t quite comfortable enough with them yet. He was fine with Carol but that was about it. With time, he hoped he would be though.

He wanted to speak with Gamora though. They had shared glances and patient looks but Peter could tell she wanted to talk with him as much as he wanted to with her. It was as the event came to an end and a cleanup began that they finally had the chance.

He hated that he couldn’t help clean up. He wanted to help but with his limited mobility and everyone telling him not to, he sat with Pepper who was in the same boat as him. “We’ll be running circles around them soon enough,” Pepper teased as they watched the rest clean up from their seats.

Peter chuckled. He wondered if Morgan would be like that too, running circles around all of them.

“Peter.”

The boy twisted in his wheelchair before turning it with him. Gamora stood behind them. He perked up. “Hey,” he said lamely.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” she asked kindly.

“Of course,” he said. He added to Pepper, “I’ll be right back.” He wheeled himself over to Gamora, who led him closer to the big tree near the shore.

They said nothing for a while. They both stared out at the lake, at the sunlight reflecting off of it. A breeze blew through the forest, blowing Gamora’s hair to her left. “I remember you,” she said suddenly. “In the Stone. Both before it settled and after.”

“I remember you too,” he told her. “You were very young the first time we met.”

“You were too,” she said. “You _are._ ”

“Hey,” he pouted. It made Gamora chuckle softly.

“In the end, age doesn’t have much to do with it,” she continued. “I was young when my journey began. Stark tells me that you were too. You are very brave for all that you’ve done.”

Peter looked down at his lap. He didn’t know how to respond to those kinds of compliments. “I did what I had to do,” he told her honestly. That’s how he saw it. It was nothing more than what he had to do. He didn’t want fame or praise, just for everyone to be okay at the end of the day.

“I admire that,” she said. “And I’m grateful that you did what you did. All of us are in your debt, Peter.”

Peter shook his head. No one owed him anything. He did what he had to do. He had the power to do it so he did it. He didn’t want all this gratitude; he didn’t know what to do with it.

Gamora chuckled again and said, “I understand your reluctance.” Peter looked to her, confused. “When I first joined the Guardians of the Galaxy, I was convinced that I would die surrounded by idiots. I had no faith in them, had barely any faith in myself. But when we succeeded, I was met with more than faith. It was faith and hope, gratitude and happiness. It was all foreign to me. I did not know what to do with it, I did not think I deserved it. As I continued with the Guardians, I found that to die with them would be an honor. They became my family in a way I had never experienced before. I learned to accept the faith and hope, gratitude and happiness.” Gamora turned to him. “I hope you never have to experience anything like this again, but I do hope that you learn to accept the gratitude. They do not give it to you because of some obligation. They give it to you because you helped them and that is a powerful thing, Peter.”

Gamora seemed to wait until he understood. The moment it slid into place, the moment Peter decided that he was willing to try, she smiled. Peter returned it, remembering that small girl with the Stone in her hand and tears in her eyes but a smile on her face. This Gamora was different than the one he had met but in the end, her soul was the same.

Peter hoped she would stick around.

“C’mon, you two.” They both spun around to face Tony behind them. “Pepper wants to make parfaits.”

“What’s a parfait?” Gamora asked, looking at Peter.

“It’s yogurt, fruits, and granola,” he said, beginning to wheel himself towards the house. “They’re good!”

The two followed after him. Unbeknownst to Peter, the two shared a look, a connection beginning between the two over the boy. They nodded to each other, an unvoiced agreement to watch over the child that had changed all of their lives.

 

* * *

 

Peter’s first day of physical therapy was frustrating.

He hated feeling weak, he hated not being able to function on his own.

He asked that it only be his physical therapist and himself in the room during his sessions. He didn’t want to see May’s pained looks or Tony’s desperate ones.

As his first few sessions went on, he had Rhodey come along. If anyone knew it what this was like, it was him.

Rhodey didn’t pity him, didn’t offer any pained or desperate looks. Instead, he was firm, telling Peter to get up the moment he fell from the bars. He was gentle though too. He understood that Peter was going through. He knew how frustrating it was. He tossed out encouragements and praised Peter for every step he managed to take.

Ned and MJ were the next to be allowed in his sessions. Ned was enthusiastic where MJ was cool. Ned was positive, telling him that he would be able to take one step more by tomorrow. MJ was patient, telling him that whatever amount of steps he took, it was progress and that was all that mattered.

The Stone was perhaps the oddest support. It didn’t speak to him, it didn’t use its powers to help him. It sat and slept. But in there, Peter knew Ben was asleep too. Peter wanted to make Ben proud, to make sure Ben’s soul hadn’t been sacrificed in vain. If he fell, Peter would reach into the connection and cover his mind in the warmth the Stone supplied.

He appreciated each of their presences more than he could ever express.

 

* * *

 

Morgan Harlow Stark was brought into the world kicking and screaming.

She was surrounded by people who were already in love with her and swore to cherish every moment with her.

Morgan Harlow Stark was brought into this world loved.

 

* * *

 

Peter let Tony, Pepper, and May come to his sessions as long as they brought Morgan.

She would shout every time he fell and squeal when he got back up.

It was the best kind of encouragement.

 

* * *

 

The topic of school caused tension. Peter wanted to go back but May wanted him to stay resting for a while more.

He knew people would stare and ask questions but it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

“They’re gonna ask and push and be insistent,” Tony told him. “You’re gonna have to tell them something.”

Peter didn’t give it much thought, gave into impulsivity. He decided to take one out of Tony’s book.

 

* * *

 

A month later, Morgan was growing and thriving. She was the most beautiful baby Peter had ever seen. She always squealed when she saw him.

A month later, he was still in physical therapy, still in a wheelchair.

A month later, he and Tony had discussed the details.

A month later, Spider-Man revealed his identity.

A month later, Peter returned to school, a smirk on his face.

A month later, May and Peter found that they spent most of their time at the lakehouse. Tony and Pepper welcomed the company and it wasn’t like Morgan ever complained unless it was about food.

A month later, the world was safe, its people content.

A month later, Peter knew the warmth in his chest was a pure feeling of safety, of love, of home.

A month later, the end of an era came, the end of a chance, a gamble. With it, came the beginning of a new path, a new story to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Check out my tumblr: neon-air

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Check out my mess of a tumblr: neon-air


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